


I've Got the World on a String

by annabelolee



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: BokuAka Week, Bokuaka - Freeform, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, a lot of fluff, akaashi cant cook, akaashi's a florist, baking a wedding cake, bokuto also has a trash immune system, bokuto can't keep plants alive, crushes and chickening out, general audiences but im sorry there are swear words, much jealousy, or burning a wedding cake, secret admirer uh oh, so many feelings, there is like no angst in this, whatever you want - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:13:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 41,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25628035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabelolee/pseuds/annabelolee
Summary: It starts with firecrackers to the face and a failed summer science experiment.In which:- Akaashi just wants to be a responsible student council president- Bokuto doesn’t want his plant to dieAnd- They’re both just as bad as the other at confessions
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 52
Kudos: 172
Collections: Bokuaka Week 2020





	1. firecrackers and flyers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chenscloud](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chenscloud/gifts).



> for my dumbo semi simp friend who really is worth the entire world 
> 
> the title is taken from Harold Arlen and Ted Koehler's "I've Got the World on a String", made famous by Frank Sinatra.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto lights up twenty-five firecrackers right in the face of Akaashi Keiji, his university student council president and, to his horror, new roommate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bokuaka Week - Day 2 - prompt: roommates/moving in

“You have to tell him. It wouldn’t be right not to.”

“I know, I know!” Bokuto hisses, peeking from his safe spot behind the shelf. “He’s not even going to arrive today, so it’s fine! I’ll tell him after, okay? After!”

“Again, do I have to remind you why setting firecrackers off inside the apartment is a very ba-“

“It’s not going to take very long!” Bokuto says reassuringly, waving his hand in the air as Konoha sputters next to him. Bokuto clicks the red button on his camera, grinning as the screen comes to life and the tape begins.

“Bokuto, you’re doing something very illegal-“

“I’m starting the countdown!” Bokuto darts forward and lights the rope, tripping over his shoes on his way back. He yelps, grabbing onto Konoha’s arms for support as the other tumbles down with Bokuto’s additional weight and nearly knocks the camera over. They freeze as the camera teeters dangerously on the tripod, tipping sideways left and right until coming to a stop, thankfully, upright. They exhale in unison.

“Good evening, professor.” Konoha clears his throat before drawling in a monotone voice, reading off the script on his phone. “This is Bokuto Koutarou and Konoha Akinori demonstrating our summer project for our second-year advanced physical chemistry course. We’re conducting an experiment calculating total heat transmission and loss into the system within an exothermic reaction by using firecrackers. The starting weight is 180 grams.”

“Alright, six seconds.” Bokuto grabs his notebook off the table. “Five.”

“You know, Bo, it’d-“

“Four,”

“-be pretty bad-“

“Three,”

“-if your roommate were-“

“Two-“

“-to move in right n-“

“ _What the hell is going on?_ ”

“One- wait, what the fuck-?!”

The firecrackers explode right as the front door opens, the newcomer yelping in shock as twenty-five firecrackers light up in his face. Bokuto’s eyes widen and he nearly kicks Konoha in the stomach as he runs frantically to the kitchen, grabbing a pail of water as he screams over the explosions, “Konoha, _stop the camera!_ ”

Konoha, the psychopath he really is, doesn’t stop said camera and watches in gleeful amusement as Bokuto runs back and chucks the pail of water right at the stranger. He wears a malicious ‘ _I told you so’_ expression on his face that Bokuto tries to ignore.

It takes a good few seconds before the crackers stop exploding and once the last one sets off, Bokuto and Konoha turn expectantly to the guest at the door of Bokuto’s dorm room.

Bokuto’s heart pounds loudly in his ears in the eery silence. Konoha looks like he’s stopped breathing.

The smoke clears and Akaashi Keiji, newly elected university student council president now covered head to toe with red flakes, water, and grey soot, sends his ugliest glare to the two cowering boys.

-

“You’re telling me you pissed off Prez even before your first day of class?”

“ _Well_ , he wasn’t really _pissed off-“_

“He was totally pissed off.” Konoha interrupts, waving his pen in the air. “The amount of swearing he did is indecent.”

“That’s amazing, really,” Kuroo grins maniacally as Bokuto whines in protest. “Good going, Bo.”

“I didn’t think he’d move in so early!” Bokuto protests. He recalls the shock and slanted gawk on his face when the air cleared to reveal (a very angry) Akaashi standing with a ruined sweater and bits of red paper stuck in his hair. The other boy had taken a deep breath, seemingly to calm himself, before saying in a dangerously steady and sweet tone, ‘ _Nice to meet you, Bokuto-san. I’m assuming you got the results you needed?_ ’

Bokuto had never felt so many chills in his entire life. “It was a whole _week_ before school started!”

Kuroo freezes and places a fist against his chest in mock anguish. “Oh, wait, so this happened a week ago and you blatantly decided _not to tell me-_ “

"In my defence, Kuroo, he didn't officially move in until yesterday! He was staying somewhere else!" Bokuto protests. "He stayed with his friends for, like, the entire week! I'm so embarrassed. It must've been because of my experiment."

"I mean, I'd stay away too," Konoha quips.

"Hey, about that experiment- did you guys actually manage to get it done?" Kuroo frowns, pulling up his report card grades. "I got an A... is that normal?"

Konoha and Bokuto glare angrily at the wooden surface of the library table as they recall the fat 'B+' that currently sits comfortably in their grade book.

“I’m struggling with my chemistry homework.” Konoha interrupts again. “Kuroo-senpai, help me out.”

“ _We are in an ADVANCED CLASS_ -“

“Kuroo-chan-“

“Yes, what do you need help on?”

Bokuto snorts at their banter, pulling out his laptop from his bag and scrolling through his emails and messages. The familiar flooded inbox fills his screen ( _394 unread emails,_ Bokuto notices happily. _That’s a new record!)_ and Bokuto hums to himself as he delightedly deletes email after email without reading a single one. The incomprehensible sound of their chemistry unit drones on in the background before Bokuto’s laptop pings with an incoming message.

He opens up Facebook and shrieks so loud that he catches the attention of twenty other students within the perimeter.

“ _Bokuto_ , what-“

“He sent me a friend request!” Bokuto shouts.

Konoha leans over to read his screen.

_‘Akaashi Keiji sent you a friend request on Facebook.’_

Konoha accepts the request.

Bokuto falls off his chair.

-

“First, I blow up his face and now he’s sending me a friend request?! The universe is toying with me, Konoha, I swear!”

The other person looks strangely unbothered. He bites down on a piece of popcorn, eyes glued to the movie playing on his laptop as he says, “He sent me one, too. You’re not that special.”

“And what did _you_ do about it, huh?” Bokuto demands.

“Accepted it as any _normal_ person would.”

“You know, I’m still not over you controlling my every digital action like some obsessive parent.”

A piece of popcorn comes flying his way. “You would’ve left the request to rot for months.”

“I would _not_ -“

Konoha arches an eyebrow. “You’re overthinking this, Bo. It’s just a friend request. He’s probably not even going to text you. Besides, he’s your roommate. You might as well get to know each other.”

“I wanted to start off on the right foot.” Bokuto pouts, casting a glance at the many plants lined up against the windowsill in his room. “I’m _scared_ of him. I was going to give him a Venus flytrap as a welcoming gift.”

An ugly snort escapes Konoha’s lips. Bokuto stares at him, flabbergasted. “Oh, excuse me, sorry about-“

“ _What’s so funny about a Venus flytrap?!_ ”

“Nothing, nothing!” Konoha throws his hands up defensively, popcorn crumbs tumbling down his shirt and onto the floor. “I just didn’t expect you to give him a carnivorous plant, that’s all! It’s a little odd but I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

“ _I_ have a Venus flytrap-“

“Usually, people give cute, harmless succulents-“

“I picked out a Venus flytrap so we can bond over _something_ , you know? I’m actually pretty genius, being able to come up with that myself-“ Bokuto crosses his arms and leans back against the couch proudly.

“Hate to break it to you, Bo, but strangers usually don’t bond over _Venus flytraps_ -“

“I’d appreciate a Venus flytrap.”

The two of them freeze, their eyes slowly crossing the living room to the front door wide in view from their position on the couch. The door’s open and the familiar black-haired student council president stands in the doorway, busy using his feet to push his shoes neatly against the wall. A smile rests easily on the curve of his mouth.

Bokuto’s heart is hammering in his chest because this is the first time he’s taken a proper look at his roommate since the smoke and soggy red paper and he suddenly forgets how to act like a normal human because _Akaashi is really, really intimidating but he also really, really likes the colour of Akaashi’s eyes-_

“It’s in his room,” Konoha says. “On top of the yaoi manga.”

-

“I’m sorry about that,” Bokuto says, closing the front door behind him. He’d just walked Konoha out, the two of them going a pretty far distance as Bokuto demanded an explanation for Konoha’s nasty comment back in the living room (“ _He knows I’m kidding!_ ” Konoha had laughed in defence). Bokuto had taken the long walk of shame back to the dorm room, wincing at how he could’ve possibly messed up _every_ encounter he had with Akaashi despite only knowing the other guy for a little over a week. Bokuto toes off his shoes begrudgingly before looking up and noticing that most of the lights are off. He comes to an abrupt stop in the doorway.

Akaashi is sitting on the couch, watching the TV wordlessly as he munches on the leftover popcorn from the bowl.

“Hm? About what?” Akaashi doesn’t look up, reaching into the bowl for another handful.

“W-what Konoha- ah, my friend who I did the experiment with and who was on my couch, that is- said earlier. The, uh, the yaoi manga. I don’t… I don’t actually read those. I don’t have them, either.” Bokuto stutters out with great difficulty.

He mentally slaps himself on the face. _What was that?!_ That could probably be the most embarrassing moment of his entire life. He’s never awkward around other people so why’s he awkward _now_ , especially around his underclassman?! He _stuttered_. He freaking _STUTTERED_ -

 _He’s also your student council president,_ a small voice in the back of Bokuto’s head reminds him, _that you find very attractive_. Bokuto responds by reaching up and slapping his ear.

That catches Akaashi’s attention. “Was there a mosquito, Bokuto-san?”

“Ah, no-“

“And in regards to your apology…” Akaashi looks up this time, shooting Bokuto an easy grin. Bokuto’s heart pounds like it’s doing rapid construction. “Thank you for the welcome plant. I took it to my room already but I just wanted to mention that I’ve been told I have quite the green thumb. I’ll be sure to keep my plant good and healthy so we can have lots to talk about.”

He's clearly making a jab at Bokuto’s comment from earlier. Bokuto chooses not to mention that (or the many late nights he’d spent awake reading through Venus flytrap proper-care manuals). “Oh, it’s no biggie.”

“Would you like some?” Akaashi shakes the popcorn bowl gently. “Sorry that I ate some… most of it. I had so much work to do and I just got back to the dorm without realising that I completely skipped a meal. I’m really hungry.”

Bokuto’s heart happily knocks itself against his chest and he has to force his fingers to stay still and his breath to stay even. He’s secretly excited, grinning as he sits down next to Akaashi. “No problem! What are we watching?”

“‘Kitchen Nightmares’. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I love Gordon Ramsay,” Bokuto says in response.

Bokuto tries to resist it, he honestly does, but he eventually finds himself blabbering noisy commentary at every scene in the show, raising his voice in indignation at disturbing scenes and laughing loudly when Ramsay pummels chefs with insults. He’s always been a big overreactor in any situation anyway and he can’t help himself, _he’s just so excited and Akaashi’s encouraging him by responding_ , even though Konoha always reminds him to read the atmosphere in case people start to find him overbearing. A part of him reminds him constantly that Akaashi might find his yakking annoying but every time he glances over at the underclassman, he’s wearing nothing but an amused grin.

So Bokuto keeps up with the commentary, anyway.

Akaashi smiles.

They clean up at around 11:30, Bokuto washing the bowl and cups in the sink while Akaashi wipes the table and vacuums the floor. He comes up to Bokuto after he’s done, resting the vacuum cleaner against the wall.

“Bokuto-san?”

“Yeah?”

“About earlier. It’s okay to read yaoi. I don’t judge-“

“I DON’T READ YAOI!”

-

Bokuto finds Konoha in his living room on Saturday morning.

To his dismay, the blond is sitting right next to their student council president at the coffee table as they laugh at something playing on Konoha’s laptop.

(Bokuto can tell it’s Konoha’s laptop because of the scratching from the speakers sounding eerily similar to the voice of a chain smoker, courtesy of when he and Kuroo spilt cream soda over the keys during their third year of high school. Konoha never got it fixed.)

That’s not even the worst part.

The worst part, undeniably, is that the video blasting at full volume sounds strangely, chillingly, and _uncomfortably_ familiar.

“-calculating total heat transmission and loss into the system within an exothermic reaction using firecrackers. The starting weight is 180 grams.” The computer chokes out.

Bokuto’s eyes widen.

He cautiously walks up behind them where, sure enough, his and Konoha’s first take for their summer experiment is playing on full screen on Konoha’s laptop. He sees himself dash forward to light the firecrackers, wearing a manic grin as he runs back.

“Alright, six seconds!” Bokuto’s voice hollers from the video. The speakers squawk in protest. Bokuto cringes.

“Konoha-“ he starts, ready to ask how in the world the sight of Konoha and Akaashi _sitting together_ in _his_ dorm room could possibly be considered _normal_ , but Konoha turns around, a finger to his lips (“ _Shush!_ ” Konoha hisses, eyes wild with glee).

“Please pause that!” Bokuto ignores him, wiggling in-between Konoha and Akaashi as he sets his cup of water on the coffee table and reaches out to stop the video.

Akaashi, the world’s biggest traitor, pushes the computer further away. Bokuto gawks at him in indignation, hurt that he’d sacrificed their delightful evening of Gordon Ramsay for Bokuto and Konoha’s embarrassing evidence of a science experiment. Akaashi smiles innocently. “Let me watch this one more time, Bokuto-san.”

“One- ‘one more time’?! So you’ve _seen this before-?!”_

“-it’d be pretty bad if your roommate were to move in right now-“ Konoha’s voice crackles from the speakers.

“No!” Bokuto yells as video-Akaashi opens the door.

The scene unfurls in slow motion. Akaashi’s brows are furrowed in confusion, one of his hands resting on the doorknob, the other on the handle of his suitcase, before firecrackers explode in front of him, spewing ash and red paper into the air. There’s one split-second that displays a very horrified, very alarmed expression on Akaashi’s face before he’s engulfed with grey and red firecracker vomit, Konoha’s laptop screaming with cracks and buzzes as video-Bokuto darts to the kitchen for a pail of water (an anguished “ _Konoha, stop the camera!”_ can be heard in the background amidst the chorus of a certain someone’s annoying wheezing). The three of them, two in great amusement and one in traumatised horror, watch as a figure stumbles to the door and chucks a bucket-full of water at the unsuspecting underclassman. A yelp is heard before the splash as video-Konoha cackles in the background.

The smoke clears and video-Akaashi looks livid.

“I’m- I’m sorry!” Video-Bokuto squawks, arms extended to keep a safe distance between himself and Akaashi before the video comes to a stop. Modern-day Konoha howls in laughter, leaning back and clutching his stomach as he wheezes. Modern-day Akaashi is sporting a similarly wide grin, covering his mouth with his fist as he covers the laugh with a few coughs. Bokuto stares at both of them.

“Traitor!” Bokuto shouts, pointing at Konoha before turning back and meeting Akaashi’s amused stare. “Konoha, I told you to stop the camera!”

“Why would I stop the camera?!” Konoha protests. “It was our experiment-“

“Because Akaashi would’ve been embarrassed-“

“I wouldn’t have been embarrassed,” Akaashi pipes in.

“That’s not even the biggest of my concerns! Why are you here, hanging out with Akaa-“

“Akaashi can hang out with whoever he wants!” Konoha swats Bokuto’s outstretched hand away. “He and I are best friends!”

“You nearly blew his face-“

“Wrong. _You_ nearly blew-“

Akaashi clicks replay on the computer and Konoha’s monotonous voice drifts again from the whining speakers. Bokuto and Konoha stare at each other for a long two seconds in silence before Konoha’s laughing again.

“I’m sending this to Washio!” Konoha screeches. “This is amazing!”

“Can I send it to Komi?” Akaashi asks.

“No, no, you can’t send it to anyone!” Bokuto cries.

“Too late! I sent it to Kuroo-“

“BO!” The front door slams open as Kuroo darts in, holding out his phone where _the exact same video of Bokuto and Konoha’s failed chemistry experiment_ blasts on full volume (extracted from the depths of Bokuto’s rapid thoughts: _What is this coincidence?! Am I some sort of protagonist in a movie?!_ ). Bokuto could only squawk in terror as Konoha dies beside him, Akaashi extending his hand in a small, innocent wave. “You didn’t tell me your experiment went so bad!”

“How many people did you send this to?!” Bokuto demands.

Konoha’s crying, he’s _seriously crying_. “I don’t think you want to know-“

A cup of water comes hurtling his way.

Konoha and Kuroo leave after twenty minutes of howling and screaming, accompanied by Bokuto’s protests of distress as Akaashi pats his back reassuringly. The dorm is eerily quiet after the departure of the two backstabbing bastards and Bokuto is mopping the floor begrudgingly as Akaashi washes the cup in the kitchen. They share a comforting silence as Bokuto calms his nerves (Akaashi looks perfectly impassive but Bokuto hears little snorts disguised as coughs the whole time he washes the cup, which reminds him- _it doesn’t take two minutes to wash a cup, does it?!_ )

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi starts.

“Yeah?”

“If it makes you feel any better, I found the video very endearing.”

Bokuto nearly trips over the mop.

“Well, I wouldn’t describe that video as very _endearing_ , Akaashi-“ Bokuto starts, ignoring the hot red flush that’s crawling up the back of his neck. Sirens are blaring in his head as all functioning brain cells run in circles, shouting and slamming into each other under the influence of Akaashi’s careless compliment.

In other words, Bokuto _cannot focus._

_Akaashi, Prez, you should NOT be starting conversations like that with random people, even if said random person is your roommate, because it leaves them in a very flustered and uncomfortable situation, despite how pretty you may be-_

“It’s funny how your first instinct was to chuck water at me,” Akaashi continues. “It’s a good defence mechanism.”

“Uh, thanks!”

“But I have a question.”

Ah, here it is.

Bokuto braces himself for the impact of any insult readily thrown his way. After years of torment from befriending Kuroo and Konoha, he’s ready for anything. _Would it be about his boisterous personality? Would it be about his unending yak of protests? Would it be about-_

He doesn’t hear Akaashi approach him and yelps when Akaashi taps him on the shoulder.

Akaashi’s holding out his phone. Some wild part of Bokuto’s imagination thinks Akaashi’s about to ask for his _number_ , which he is very ready to give, before the familiar scene of a drenched Akaashi standing in the doorway registers in his brain. Bokuto stares at the screen.

More specifically, the black object on the floor on the screenshot.

“Why did you use the rice cooker pot, Bokuto-san?”

-

He quickly learns that Akaashi is a busy person.

A very, _very_ busy person.

He sees Akaashi a total of fourteen hours during the weekdays. He always stumbles into the doorway sometime past ten, heavy shadows under his eyes as he slowly and tiredly toes off his shoes by the door. Bokuto used to greet him by the door with a cheerful “ _Welcome home!_ ” but he doesn’t do that anymore, not after Akaashi winces every time as if the words were like a fist to his face. Bokuto knows he doesn’t mean to flinch because there’s always the flash of guilt across his features before he straightens up and heads to his room to change, but Bokuto doesn’t miss the way Akaashi’s bag is dropped sloppily on the ground and the way his shoes are never straightened (Bokuto starts straightening them after a few days of the untidy pile, something that Akaashi is secretly grateful for, shown in his soft knocks before class in the morning). He sleeps quietly, not a single sound slipping from under the crack of his door as opposed to Bokuto’s noisy snoring that Konoha calls ‘gorilla-like’. However, Akaashi’s not that subtle in keeping other sounds secret, and after a week of Akaashi’s stomach grumbling during odd times when he sits down to finish whatever homework he has left for the day and Akaashi (very reluctantly) admitting that he hasn’t had time to eat, Bokuto starts leaving meals for him and heating them up when he hears the door click open.

“Why are you always so busy?” Bokuto asks one evening as Akaashi wolfs down his plate in front of him.

Akaashi politely swallows and clears his throat. “I’ve been doing a lot of part-times during the week.”

“Part times already? It’s only September!”

“I have to be prepared. Besides, student council work takes up a lot of my time, too. Which reminds me…”

He digs a hand into his pocket and pushes a flyer across the table. Bokuto picks it up with interest.

It’s a sketch messily done, rough lines marking out what appears to be a school fair. There are little stalls drawn around the perimeter of the paper and stick figures beside the messy rectangles. Large red letters across the top spell out ‘ _School Winter Fair!’_ in an overexcited font. Akaashi coughs awkwardly.

“That’s what I’m thinking as our yearly fundraiser,” Akaashi explains. “The problem is that I don’t know if people will like it. I’m not sure if I should propose the idea.”

“I don’t see a reason why people won’t.” Bokuto shrugs, ignoring the perplexed expression Akaashi wore shamelessly. “How are you going to organise the stalls?”

“I don’t know…” Akaashi frowns. “I was thinking of just letting people who want to have a booth sign up in their own groups, but my biggest worry is that no one will.”

“I mean, as long as you let them pick whatever they want to do, I’m sure that it wouldn’t be an issue.”

"I guess you're right... but I'm just scared that people will choose something stupid, you know?"

Bokuto laughs. "We're in college. I don't think anyone has the time or the effort to do something that abides by the rules."

A smirk kicks up a corner of Akaashi's mouth. "I suppose you're right again."

"More importantly, do you have a theme?"

"Yeah. How does 'winter wonderland' sound?"

Bokuto grins. "I love it."

He hands the flyer back to Akaashi, who stuffs it into his bag with a sigh. “Dude, lighten up! Have you been stressing over this for the whole day?”

“The whole week, actually.” Akaashi stands up and heads to the kitchen. “But thank you. I’ll probably just stick with this idea.”

“If you want, I can ask some upperclassmen if they’d be interested in manning stalls for you since I’m, uh…” Bokuto breaks off the end of his sentence, scrunching his face up as he tries to phrase it nicely. The last thing he wants to do is offend Akaashi at any rate, and when Akaashi turns around and arches an eyebrow asking him to continue, he feels the phrase dry up uncomfortably in the back of his throat. “Uh…”

“Just say it.”

“Since I’m less shy.”

He expects Akaashi’s plate to come hurtling his way, maybe even for the Prez to go off on an angry rant, but instead, he receives a gentle laugh from the sink. He blinks twice before Akaashi comes back, shaking his head.

“That’d be great, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says sincerely.

-

In the end, Akaashi’s idea receives wide approval. The news comes to Bokuto in the form of a tired wave at ten in the evening, an outstretched hand holding a thick stack of papers as feet awkwardly toe off dusty sneakers.

Bokuto’s eyes widen at the beautiful, clean design on the pages. “Did you draw these yourself, Akaashi?”

Akaashi coughs awkwardly. It’s been a while since anyone has done anything close to complimenting his work and he’s _almost_ forgotten how to act. “Yeah. Um, I’m a digital design major so… it’s expected of me.”

“It must’ve taken you a long time!”

“Not really. I just spend lunchtimes drawing. It got done pretty fas-“

He doesn’t finish speaking before Bokuto interrupts, grabbing the flyers and staring at the design with a wide gawk. It’s unbelievable how the drowsy and expressionless underclassman next to him could come up with something as fervent as the design on the flyer. The colours were bright and cheery, hues of blues and beige and white that mix well next to each other, a comfortable design to look at as Bokuto marvels at the tiny details imprinted onto each individual stall and student that Akaashi painstakingly drew out. “Akaashi, these are so nice! Whoa…. How did you do it?”

But Bokuto doesn’t even wait for his answer before he drops a flyer onto the table and snaps a picture, all the while throwing awed compliments over his shoulder. “Wow! I’m seriously impressed! I can’t believe…”

Akaashi snorts, dropping his bag beside the umbrellas and walking to his room, shutting the door softly behind him. He can still hear Bokuto’s boisterous exclamations as he gets changed, clicking his tongue softly at the energetic upperclassman marvelling over paper posters in the living room.

“Akaashi!” Bokuto calls out after Akaashi walks back into the living room. “I posted these on the sophomore Facebook page. I hope you don’t mind.”

Akaashi’s eyes widen, completely startled. “Well, you didn’t have to do that-“

“The notice will just get spread faster,” Bokuto says. “You should consider asking if you can post a digital scan of it on the school page! Besides, even if none of them shows interest in the stalls at the end, they’ll still be won over by your amazing drawing!”

A red blush creeps up Akaashi’s neck. “Bokuto-san, you don’t have to compliment me.”

“I’m not! I’m stating facts!” Bokuto turns back to the posters. “These are seriously cool. Can I keep one?”

Akaashi lets him, and the flyer sits, framed, on the shelf above Bokuto’s bed.

-

Bokuto spreads the flyers around, shoving it into the unsuspecting hands of his friends and classmates. When asked, he shoots them cheerful grins and asks (forces) his flustered victims to consider signing up for a booth during the winter fair. He’s met with skeptical glances and sarcastic responses, but from Akaashi’s relieved grins whenever he checks the sign-up document in the evenings Bokuto can tell that he’s not failing, not even close.

A week later, Akaashi runs up to him in the courtyard after school. Bokuto sees his flustered roommate, half-sprinting and half-keeping-a-normal pace, beckoning frantically with his hand at him from the entrance. He shouts Bokuto’s name several times, inevitably catching the attention of the rest of the students walking home as well.

Konoha raises an eyebrow. “Forgot a special date with Prez?”

“Shoo!” Bokuto barks, turning around completely to walk back to Akaashi. “I’ll catch you later!”

Komi snorts under his breath. “He’s whipped.”

Bokuto squawks defiantly as Konoha bursts into laughter. “I am not! I don’t even like him like that. He probably just has some really good news to tell me-”

“Yeah, right-“

“I’m serious!”

“Go get him, Kou,” Komi manages to add in-between Konoha’s annoying wheezing. He shoves Bokuto forward with the push of a hand. “Tell us how the date goes!”

“For the last time-“ Bokuto starts, but they’re already heading away together, nudging each other's shoulders as they gossip (very obviously) about Bokuto and the dark-haired underclassman at the entrance and their supposed “date” that Bokuto missed.

Akaashi runs up to him, red-faced and slightly out of breath but eyes shining nonetheless as he shoves his phone at Bokuto. Bokuto stumbles, catching his footing as he reads the display.

His eyes widen. “Akaashi!”

“I know, I know!” Akaashi all but squeals, now unable to contain his usual calm composure as he hops up and down. “It’s approved! We have enough stalls and volunteers! We’re having a winter fair!”

“ _We’re having a winter fair!_ ” Bokuto repeats, equally as happy and excited. His heart feels like it’s about to combust with the sheer amount of joy he’s feeling at the moment, the pounding in his chest lighting up his face to stretch into a wide, wide grin. Finally, after two tiring weeks of Akaashi staying up late and organising his proposition for the winter fair, it’s approved and his roommate and finally take a break. Not even thinking twice, he leans forward, arms outstretched, pulling Akaashi into a-

Oh.

Oh, no.

Bokuto freezes.

Just as he realizes what he’s about to do, what form of otherworldly disaster he’s about to unleash on his roommate and new friend, Akaashi bounces forward, throwing his arms around his neck and dropping his chin onto Bokuto’s shoulder as he laughs along with him.

Bokuto short circuits. _What the hell what the hell what the hell he’s hugging me he’s hugging me hE’S HUGGING ME-_

He comes to his senses and unabashedly hugs Akaashi back, circling his arms around the other’s waist as they whoop and hop and cheer in the courtyard under the flabbergasted stares of their classmates, one thought rolling through everyone’s heads except their own at that moment: _What a sight to witness._

And what a sight to witness it is, the quiet and reserved student council president yelling into the ears of the boisterous advanced physical chemistry student known for notoriously blowing up the chem lab in his first year.

“And someone here thought that no one would like his idea!” Bokuto says jokingly, earning a gentle punch to the chest.

“Thanks for encouraging me, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says, dropping his arms from Bokuto’s neck. “I’m glad you didn’t tell me to drop the idea.”

“Looking forward to helping you with the stalls, Prez.” Bokuto gives him a mock salute. Akaashi rolls his eyes.

They curl up on the couch to watch another episode of ‘Kitchen Nightmares’. This time, Bokuto carelessly flings his commentary and suggestions without fearing Akaashi’s harsh judgment. Akaashi throws popcorn at him.

Just before going to bed, Bokuto receives a text from Konoha. He opens it and nearly drops his phone, gawking at the large image filling up his screen.

“Bokuto-san?” Akaashi peeks his face through the doorway into his room. “I heard your scream. Is everything okay…?”

His voice trails off when he sees the phone lying ( _very_ conveniently, Bokuto might add) face-up on his floor, the picture of Akaashi and Bokuto embracing in the courtyard shining bright and clear as day in the dim room. His eyes widen slightly as he clears his throat, a shy red tint growing on his cheeks.

Bokuto, on the other hand, is resembling something vastly similar to a stop sign.

“This is very embarrassing,” Bokuto laughs awkwardly, running a hand through the back of his hair. He is pointedly avoiding meeting Akaashi's questioning gaze. “Uh… I’m going to ask Konoha to delete that. It’s embarrassing.”

“Is it? I think it’s very cute.” Akaashi says nonchalantly, ignoring the furious coughs Bokuto emits in response. He stares at Bokuto in concern. “I’m going to get you some water.”

“Yeah, yeah, thanks, Akaashi.”

Akaashi places the cup on Bokuto’s nightstand as Bokuto furiously types away on his phone. He can almost hear Konoha’s jeering voice as the demon on the other side of the screen refuses to delete the picture.

Bokuto doesn’t feel Akaashi sit down beside him on the bed until the latter says, quietly, “Bokuto-san?”

“AGH!” Bokuto shouts, startled. He jumps, his phone falling out of his hand and onto his lap, where it bounces once before hitting the floor. The two of them stare at it in silence.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi breaks the silence first. He leans down and picks the phone up.

“Tha-“ Bokuto starts before watching in confusion as Akaashi opens up his keypad. His eyes widen. “Uh-“

He snaps his mouth shut when Akaashi types a number into the screen and adds it to Bokuto’s contacts. He then pulls up Bokuto’s text chain with Konoha and proceeds to forward the picture to the new number, now sporting a nice ‘Akaashi Keiji’ where the numbers used to be. Bokuto gawks.

“Now you can delete it.” Akaashi hands the phone back, smiling confidently as if he didn’t just so casually _give Bokuto his phone number_. “Yeah, that was what I was going to ask you to do. Thank you! Tell Konoha it’s a nice picture. Does he like taking pictures, by any chance?”

Bokuto swallows the millions of questions and blaring sirens screaming/wailing in his system. “Uh- yes, he does. He took photography in high school.”

“Makes sense. The picture is extremely well framed and well positioned. I don’t even have to do much editing.” Akaashi stands up and bows. “Thanks, Bokuto-san!”

He leaves Bokuto sitting, wide-eyed, in silence with a funny feeling in his stomach.

-

“He gave you his phone number?”

“Yeah! I’m still so shocked, dude, I didn’t even have to _ask_ for it-“

“I honestly thought you guys would’ve done some sort of confession last night, but I guess this is okay, too.”

“C-confession?!”

“Yeah, since it’s so obvious you guys find each other attractive-“

“… _confession?!_ ”

"What? Don't you like him-?"

" _CONFESSION?!_ "

“Damn it, Konoha, you broke Bokuto.”

“Don’t you think so, too, though?!”

“I don’t have a crush on Akaashi! He’s just really, really nice- hey! Don’t laugh!”

“Komi, how much do you want to bet that Bokuto’s going to ask Akaashi out before the winter fair?”

“Movie and dinner.”

“Deal.”

“Don’t make bets on me!”

-

The realization dawns on Bokuto during class while he’s completing a lab.

Konoha is next to him, blinking tiredly as he changes the positions of their polarizers. He unleashes a ghastly yawn while removing a mirror from the front of the device. “Hurry up, Bo. Tell me you dissolved the sucrose.”

“I did that.”

“15 millilitres, right?”

“Yes, Konoha, I can read-“

“When did you do it?”

“An hour ago! 1:57!”

“Perfect. Give it to me.”

Bokuto picks up the solution obediently, turning around to find the flask when suddenly he makes eye contact with another student in the building next to the chemistry labs.

Akaashi’s eyes widen when their gazes connect through the glass and a faint red blush skates across his cheeks. He blinks twice before raising a hand in a small wave.

From Akaashi’s perspective, Bokuto, in the chemistry room one level higher from his classroom, is staring wide-eyed in surprise down at him. From Bokuto’s perspective, however, Akaashi’s not even half as plain.

The gentle afternoon sunlight casts a yellow tint over Akaashi’s window, shrouding him in gold and blinding white. Akaashi’s sitting right next to the window, the angle from Bokuto’s floor completely hiding everyone else in the classroom. All Bokuto could see is Akaashi, only Akaashi, Akaashi with his face tilted upwards and fingers stretched in a wave. Akaashi, with his dark, dark hair and bright green eyes, blushing profusely at Bokuto’s prolonged eye contact. A smile pulls the sides of his lips into a small grin and he shifts in his seat to get a better look at Bokuto.

Bokuto, completely stunned out of his mind by the sheer beauty of the scene before him, gawks.

He can only process the distant screaming in the back of his head until it becomes reality in the familiar whines of Konoha Akinori.

“What are you doing, you big idiot?” Konoha’s voice sounds from behind him. “Bokuto, our experiment is _timed!_ ”

Bokuto’s still staring at the student council president, who’s now gesturing with his fingers and wide eyes to a furious Konoha behind Bokuto’s back.

“Bo-“

Konoha stops as well when he notices who caught Bokuto’s attention. His previous glare is replaced with a bright, bright smirk as he pats Bokuto on the back, taking the flask from his fingers and heading back to the station, all the while muttering, “ _Not a crush,_ huh?”

Someone beside Akaashi asks him a question and Akaashi’s gaze lingers for a second longer before turning to the student next to him. His smile lingers.

Bokuto stares.

That is, before exclaiming, “He literally looks perfect! Konoha, Konoha, take a picture!”

Konoha laughs and shakes his head. “No, you pervert. You hopeless romantic.”

-

Akaashi comes home that night with a flower in his hand. It’s wrapped in newspaper, Prez carrying it delicately as he gently sets it above the shoe closet. He catches Bokuto’s curious expression and shoots him a grin in response. He toes off his shoes and drops his bag on the ground before walking up to Bokuto at the dining table, extending his hand to Bokuto’s chest. Bokuto looks down.

One single delicate carnation with frilly yellow petals meets his eyes, looking so gentle and delicate in Akaashi’s fingers that Bokuto could only think that it belonged there and only there, pinched in Akaashi’s grasp, in the fingers of his smiling roommate.

“For you,” Akaashi says innocently. “The lady at the store who ordered a bouquet asked for too many carnations, so we all took one home. It’s yours.”

“No, no!” Bokuto waves his hands frantically. “I’m going to kill it!”

Akaashi looks up and peeks at the dining table. “Your flytrap looks very much alive.”

“I’m going to kill this though, I swear!”

“You just need to keep it in water, Bokuto. Change the water every few days and keep it away from the sun.”

Bokuto gawks as Akaashi closes Bokuto’s hand around the flower. He’s grinning ecstatically. “It suits you!”

Bokuto’s hand tingles where Akaashi touched him.

When Akaashi leaves to shower, Bokuto takes a tall glass cup from the cabinet, fills it halfway with water, and drops the flower in. He places it at the centre of their dining table, right between the small candles Akaashi brought with him as decoration and Bokuto's Venus flytrap. He takes a few steps back, admiring the single flower sitting on the table.

He grins.

It looks like it belongs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> konoha SMH i love you though  
> I hope this was good!! Comments feedback and kudos are appreciated yayayay!  
> see ya'll tomorrow!


	2. carnations and the conjuring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi works in a flower shop and secretly grows his own bouquet to impress his roommate. Bokuto tries to keep his Venus flytrap alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bokuaka Week - Day 3 - prompt: florist au

“I didn’t ask for this many carnations!”

Akaashi stands, slack-jawed, in front of the counter where a fretting lady is screeching angrily about the bouquet Akaashi has just shown her. Her fingers twitch, centimetres away from the flowers, and with the devil’s look in her expression, Akaashi expects her to take the entire bouquet and yeet it at his face.

He moves the bouquet safely onto the chair behind him.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he starts apologetically, “but you ordered the yellow Delightful Carnations bouquet and this is exactly how we arrange it.”

“You said there would also be roses and lilies in the bouquet! And winterberries!”

Akaashi’s right eye twitches. “Yes. Those flowers are also in the bouquet.”

“Yet I see so many carnations!” The lady snaps.

Akaashi considers throwing the bouquet at _her_ face instead. “That is because you ordered a Delightful Carnations-“

“Is everything okay?”

Akaashi exhales in relief as a familiar face walks up beside him. Sugawara shoots the lady a soft smile before picking up the bouquet from the chair, tapping Akaashi’s elbow with his finger to calm him down. The lady is unfazed.

Suga twirls the flowers in his hands and frowns. “It looks perfect to me. What’s the matter?”

“You can’t even _tell_ what the issue is?” The lady sneers. “Look at all of those carnations!”

Suga blinks. “Well, yes, there are indeed more carnations than the other flowers because this is a carnation bouqu-“

“I want a refund!” Demon Lady shouts. Akaashi’s eardrum rings. “My money is wasted on this large expanse of carnations! These cheap flowers!”

 _Oof_ , Akaashi winces. _Kiyoko would_ not _like to hear that about her flowe-_

Speak of the devil, he smells familiar perfume somewhere behind him.

“How about this!” Kiyoko’s voice interrupts the woman. She’s also made her way to the counter, still holding a pair of scissors in her hand. “We can redesign this bouquet and take out the carnations. We’ll give you more lilies and roses in return. I can get that done within the hour. Is that okay?”

Satan’s Reincarnate ponders for a moment, her mouth still wide open as if ready to throw an insult, before slowly nodding and sighing loudly. “Go get that done.”

“I’ll be as quick as I can,” Kiyoko promises.

She grabs the bouquet from Suga’s hands and disappears into the back of the store. Suga and Akaashi follow.

The second the door shuts behind them, Suga lets out a huge exhale. “Sheesh! I’ve never met someone like her before!”

“Imagine ordering a carnation bouquet and being mad that there are more carnations than the rest of the flowers,” Akaashi adds. He pinches the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes as he leans against the wall. “She’s making me grow white hairs.”

“Not to mention the blatant insult she threw at Kiyo-“ Suga chimes in, only to be interrupted by a click of Kiyoko’s tongue.

“You guys,” Kiyoko says, disgust dripping from her voice. “In your lives, you’ll meet all sorts of people. She’s just one of the many few you have to deal with.”

“She could have the decency to be nicer!” Suga protests.

“You should be glad she didn’t destroy the bouquet,” Kiyoko shoots back, “or else this process will take much, much longer.”

“I’m just glad she didn’t destroy our store,” Akaashi says.

Someone shrieks outside. The nasty, nails-on-blackboard sound of empty plastic plant pots bouncing on the floor interrupts their conversation. The three of them cringe.

“I spoke too soon,” Akaashi whispers to the two older employees. They nod in return.

That’s how he finds himself holding a yellow carnation wrapped in newspaper on his way home. Kiyoko removed three carnations in exchange for two roses and a lily, despite trying to reason with the lady that carnations last much longer than either two flowers once cut.

Devil’s Right Hand Woman does not comply. Kiyoko hands over the bouquet and passes Suga and Akaashi each a flower.

“Don’t waste these,” she answers when they question the small flower in their hands. She throws a wink at Suga, adding, “Take it home to Daichi!”, the latter growing red in seconds.

Akaashi’s very grateful that he didn’t tell either of them about Bokuto Koutarou.

He twirls the flower in his hands, admiring the bright yellow petals that are the results of Kiyoko’s intense and loving care. He reaches in subconsciously, smoothing out a petal caught in the folds of the newspaper until the flower looked good as new, a beautiful collection of ruffles amidst the grey of the newspaper. In the deep blue of the evening, the carnation he holds blossoms like a star, a fold of a scarf on a hook, a popcorn kernel thrown carelessly his way, beautiful, inviting, eager golden eyes-

He stops in his tracks, one foot still lifted off the ground. His eyes widen.

_No._

He keeps walking, forcing his feet to take him to the dorm rooms. His head is whizzing, a thousand thoughts rambling all at once.

_You find him attractive._

_You_ like _him._

_You think he’s kind._

_You think he’s hilarious._

_You think he’s easygoing._

_You really like him._

_You-_

It’s Stockholm syndrome.

That’s what Akaashi decides.

However, he opens the door to find Bokuto already waiting for him expectantly, a bright smile on the upperclassman’s face, and he curses his heart for fluttering at the sight.

He hands the carnation to Bokuto without even really thinking about it and says, “For you.”

 _I’ll probably regret this the next morning_ , he thinks as he continues. “The lady at the store who ordered a bouquet asked for too many carnations, so we all took one home. It’s yours.”

He doesn’t miss the astonishment in Bokuto’s eyes, the surprise in the smile that takes over his features as he protests, arguing that he won’t be able to take care of it well.

Akaashi leaves the lone flower to Bokuto anyway before taking the plate that Bokuto left on the kitchen counter and sitting down at the table. He marvels at how Bokuto can cook pretty decently, Akaashi himself lacking all skill when it comes to any cooking device other than the microwave whatsoever (though he swears that he’ll never admit that to Bokuto for as long as he lives). Bokuto sits back down in front of him, staring wide-eyed at the flower in his hand. Akaashi snorts, finding it amusing how a tall, well-built, slightly intimidating guy is staring in awe at a small carnation that he can probably flatten with one slap.

“It’s so pretty!” Bokuto says, twirling the flower in his fingers. “Hey, do you work at a flower shop? Are you a florist?”

Akaashi shrugs. “Perhaps,”

“That’s how you’re able to keep your plant alive!” Bokuto yelps, pointing a finger at Akaashi’s face. Akaashi leans back. “You’re a plant god!”

“Well, _no_ ,”

But like always, Bokuto’s not listening his protests. “Whoa, I’m roommates with a florist! A plant god! This is so insanely cool!”

Akaashi shakes his head as he stands up to put his plate in the sink, ignoring the whoops and cheers from Bokuto in the living room. He heads to the bathroom and shuts the door behind him quietly, his mind a confuzzled mess. He leans against the smooth wood before releasing a heavy sigh.

He doesn’t _like_ Bokuto. He only admires Bokuto’s enthusiasm and kindness.

Yet he cannot seem to shake the excitement and undeniable joy he feels whenever he sees Bokuto waiting for him by the dinner table, raising a hand in a wave, or when Bokuto waits for him by the door every morning to walk to school together, or when-

Akaashi accidentally washes his hair five times.

-

“Bokuto-san?”

“Yeah?”

“I was just wondering… but…”

“Akaashi, fight!”

“Bokuto-“

“Yeah, what were you wondering?”

“When’s your birthday?”

“…oh! September 20th.”

“That’s in two weeks! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Gah! I didn’t think you’d really care to know, you know? It’s not a big deal- hey!”

Popcorn is hurled his way.

-

“Suga-san…” Akaashi approaches Suga one late afternoon in the flower shop.

The upperclassman is trimming off the thorns from a bouquet of roses. “Yeah?”

“What do you give to Sawamura-san on your anniversaries? Or special days like Christmas, perhaps?”

Suga pauses, scissors hovering over a stem. “Well, wouldn’t _you_ like to know? Spill. Who’s the lucky guy?”

Akaashi bristles. “No, it’s not me, it’s my friend. Komi.”

Akaashi will worry about tossing Komi so casually under the bus later.

“Ah!” Suga turns around, frowning. “It really depends. Sometimes I give him books or coffee beans he’s been dying to try out. Sometimes I give him clothes. Sometimes I just give him flowers.”

Akaashi perks up. “Flowers?”

“Yeah! I give him a bouquet from the store and even though it’s, like, the _laziest_ gift I can come up with, he loves it nonetheless.”

Akaashi’s always been pretty trash with giving gifts and most of the time he just browses through Pinterest for ideas he can steal. He _almost_ did that last night (emphasis on _almost_ ) before staring up at the ceiling with a heart-wrenching bout of guilt because Bokuto is _way_ more than just a friend who deserves Pinterest-stolen ideas.

 _But what else can I get him?!_ Anything else that Akaashi could think of strayed on the tiny border between _friends_ and _Imaylowkeypossiblyhaveacrushonyouthisisslightlyromantic._

And Akaashi didn’t want that.

As he closes up the shop after Kiyoko, he considers just getting Bokuto a bouquet for his birthday. Yet the bouquet itself seems too plain and ordinary, and it didn’t help in the slightest that Akaashi already worked in the only flower shop around. It would be a lazy gift, one without any thought or care behind it. He ponders it as he kicks a pebble all the way back to the dorms, once or twice groaning out in frustration when nothing substantial comes to mind (he admittedly does scare a few people on the street, but it’s not like he’ll see them again).

Bokuto’s waiting for him like he does every night. Akaashi breaks into a smile. The carnation sits happily on the table.

The idea comes to him at one in the morning like a truck against his skull.

His eyes shoot open. He grabs his phone.

_[ Akaashi (1:19 A.M.): Do we have space in the greenhouse? ]_

Suga replies a few seconds later.

_[ Sugawara (1:20 A.M.): Yeah, there’s some space in the back. Why? ]_

Akaashi closes his eyes and ignores the excited thumping in his chest.

It wouldn’t be for Bokuto’s birthday, but it would mean just as much.

-

He picks up a few seeds from the market during his lunch break. If he calculates his time right, he will have some buffer time to do his proper research on the flowers before Christmas comes around. The bouquet itself should be ready by then and if Akaashi is careful enough the entire time, it’ll be the most splendid thing both Kiyoko and Bokuto will ever see.

He just has to be sneaky about it and not let Bokuto know.

Which is why he freezes completely when he sees a familiar white-and-grey-haired individual leave the gardening shop, holding a small sack of what appears to be perlite in his hand.

His roommate is with a familiar blond, Konoha, and they’re laughing about something together. Konoha reaches over and thumps Bokuto on the head after the latter says some sort of idiotic joke and it’s right then that Konoha catches Akaashi’s eye.

Akaashi, still frozen stock-still, can only stare back with wide-eyes and a terrified expression.

Konoha, being able to read the atmosphere better than Akaashi can himself, shoots him a small smile before steering Bokuto in the opposite direction.

Akaashi watches as they turn the corner out of the marketplace and disappear in the afternoon sun. He lets out a loud exhale.

_He has to be careful._

He purchases the seeds and heads back to campus- that is, after taking the longest detour he can possibly think of.

-

“I’m growing my own bouquet,” Akaashi explains to a wide-eyed Suga and a questioning Kiyoko as they stand over him in the greenhouse. Akaashi’s sorting dirt into two piles, a list of variables and notes beside him for growing roses and chrysanthemums.

“Are you sure?” Kiyoko’s the first to speak. “It’s going to take a lot of time and effort. I don’t want you to be too distracted from your studies.”

“It’ll be okay, I promise!” Akaashi nods. “I’m only growing four types of flowers. It should be okay!”

“Which ones are you growing?” Kiyoko takes the seeds from Akaashi’s hands. “Ooh, these are good choices!”

“They shouldn’t be too difficult to grow,” Akaashi agrees. “My biggest concern is the lilies.”

“If you want, I can help you check up on them in the mornings when you’re at school,” Kiyoko suggests. “This way, it’ll be a little safer in case anything goes wrong.”

“Thank you!” Akaashi bows deeply, ignoring the hard, excited hammering in his chest. “I’d really appreciate that.”

“Who’s the bouquet for?” The million-dollar question comes out of Suga first. The upperclassman is sporting a wide grin. “You didn’t tell us about this, Akaashi!”

“Just a friend,” Akaashi says dismissively, ignoring Suga’s disbelieving snort. “I’m thinking of giving it to him during Christmas.”

“Shimizu, since when did we give our _friends_ bouquets-“

“I see nothing wrong with it,” Kiyoko says innocently.

Suga huffs in response.

-

He comes home to the scariest sight he can possibly imagine.

No, really. Akaashi doesn’t think it can get worse than this.

“…Bokuto-san?”

The upperclassman freezes, body rigid as he registers the voice behind him before slowly turning around to meet Akaashi’s wide-eyed stare. His hands hover in midair before he slowly and shakily lowers them to his sides to face Akaashi straight-on. Akaashi’s heart is hammering in his chest, threatening to claw out of his throat as a drum bangs in his head. Tears well in his eyes. He feels nothing but trauma, fear, betrayal, and he’s so, so, _so_ scared-

“I can explain!” Bokuto shouts, loud and clear as he waves his hands. “Please let me explain!”

It probably has everything to do with Akaashi’s late-night researching and inevitable lack of sleep. Akaashi’s exhausted and he’s very, _very_ close to crying. “No-“

“I didn’t mean to! I don’t know what I was doing, honestly, and this is all just a mistake, I should’ve waited for you-“

“Why is there a naked Venus flytrap sitting on our dining table, Koutarou?”

Bokuto sucks in a breath through his teeth, wincing at Akaashi’s low tone. He visibly shudders. “Konoha told me my pot was too small. I’m sorry.”

“There is no need to put the plant on the dining table in a sad pile of soil, Kou.”

“I know, I know-“

“Is there anything _under_ the soil? Or did you just smack it right on the table?”

“…I smacked it right on the table.”

Akaashi drops his bag beside the door and sighs heavily, ignoring the terrified expression Bokuto sports after Akaashi comes within punching perimeter. “Bokuto-san.”

“Yes, Akaashi.”

“Do you see how your flytrap has fallen to lie on its side?” Akaashi points at the poor green plant lying horizontally on the soil.

Bokuto swallows. “Yes.”

“You shouldn’t let it do that. That’s because you didn’t put it in a container. Wait.” Akaashi heads to his room and pulls out a small plastic bucket. He takes the bags of soil on the table and arranges it accordingly in the bucket, making sure to fully combine the peat, sphagnum, and perlite well. Bokuto watches with a wide-eyed expression, clearly impressed, as Akaashi picks up the sad flytrap and breaks off the clumps of soil still attached to its roots.

“Wait- we’re supposed to do that?” Bokuto interrupts as Akaashi holds up the naked root.

“Yeah. It’ll grow in the new, healthy soil.” Akaashi places the root on top of the new mixture as Bokuto “oohs” beside him. “It’s not going to kill it if that’s what you’re wondering. The old soil was also very dry, judging by that nasty brown colour. If it looks like… burnt, dehydrated corn, Bokuto-san, it’s a very clear indication that you should change your moss and soil altogether.”

“Was it really that bad?” Bokuto winces. “I’ve been taking good care of it.”

“You have. The traps are very healthy. I’m impressed.” Akaashi nods. “However, we’re approaching dormancy season. It’s September and, especially in this climate, the traps are expected to go dormant ne-“

“Dormant?”

Akaashi freezes. “Uh, during the winter-“

“I only got my flytrap in June.”

Sirens are blaring in Akaashi’s head. “Okay, uh, Bokuto-san. Venus flytraps go through a dormancy period during the fall and winter when the weather is cold. They appear kind of dead, but you should still be watering them during this time so they can survive the winter. That’s what I’m talking about- we should change the soil before the dormancy period so it’s a safer bet for keeping the traps alive.”

“Ah, I see!” Bokuto chimes. “Understood!”

Akaashi picks up an empty plant pot sitting at the corner of the table, filling it with soil and handing it to Bokuto. “Here. You can just repot your plant and it should be fine.”

He leans over Bokuto’s shoulder after Bokuto drops the flytrap in, taking his water bottle from his bag and watering the plant. Bokuto frowns. “Why are you using your water bottle, Akaashi?”

Akaashi stops, the bottle still hovering over the plant. “Are you watering your flytrap with tap water, Bokuto-san?”

“Are you not supposed to?”

“The minerals in the tap water burn the roots, Bokuto-san.”

“…”

“B-Bokuto-san?”

-

Perhaps Akaashi didn’t warn Bokuto enough about the pure sensitivity of flytraps, because he comes home the following evening to an even more disturbing sight.

“Bokuto-san… what are you doing?”

The upperclassman looks up from his crouch over his potted plant. He shoots Akaashi a wide grin. “Hey, Akaa-“

“Is that a piece of _corn_?!”

Bokuto nods happily. “Yeah! See, I don’t want to feed Mr. Pickles _meat_ because I want him to be a friendly, healthy plant, so Kuroo proposed feeding it vegetables instead-“

“Bokuto-san!” Akaashi stands gawking at the horrific sacrificial site in front of him. He’s less worried about Bokuto calling the flytrap ‘ _Mr. Pickles’_ than the crime scene that he’s been shoved into. Bokuto holds a piece of corn in a pair of tweezers, perched over a trap, ready to send his poor flytrap to its inevitable doom. The flytrap, blatantly unaware of the torture it’s about to face, opens its trap widely, enthusiastically waiting for Bokuto’s onslaught of poison.

“Don’t worry, Akaashi, I’m not playing favourites!” Bokuto continues. “I’ve already fed Mr. Pickles a piece of corn before-“

Akaashi nearly faints.

“A-Akaashi?”

-

“Why do you look so sickly pale today?”

Akaashi winces at Suga’s booming voice as the upperclassman peeks out from inside the greenhouse. “Wait, wait, Akaashi, you look _green_ -“

“I did not have a good night last night,” Akaashi explains, walking over to the greenhouse and setting his bag down. “My roommate tried to feed his flytrap corn.”

Suga gawks. “No way.”

“Yeah. I’m expecting two of the traps to dry up within the next three days. I’m just surprised at how he hasn’t done this anytime before.”

“No,” Suga interrupts, “he probably has. The plant probably survived… or he just didn’t think much of it. It’s one tough plant.”

“But wouldn’t you at least read a few care manuals and tips before doing anything so… _bold_ to the plant?” Akaashi interjects. “I’m pretty sure it’s common sense not to feed plants to _another plant-_ “

“What was his reasoning?”

“He wanted the flytrap to be a friendly, healthy flytrap-“

“That’s cute,” Suga says, much to Akaashi’s dismay. “I like him already.”

“He nearly killed his flytrap, Suga!”

“He was doing it for his flytrap’s good, Aka-”

“Akaashi, Akaashi!”

Akaashi freezes at the new voice, loud and familiar, that echoes throughout the small store, bouncing off walls and windows and _plants_ before making its desired contact with his poor eardrums. Suga perks up, immediately darting to the counter.

Akaashi hears their conversation clearly and he _almost_ wishes he didn’t.

“Hi! I’m Sugawara. How can I help you today?”

“Oh, I’m looking for Akaashi! I think he works here?”

“Keiji?”

“Yeah! He told me he worked at a flower shop and he even gave me a carnation a few days ago. I think it’s from here-“

“He gave the carnation to _you_?!” Suga’s nothing but overexcited, a girly shriek lifting the end of his sentence to an excited shout. Akaashi winces, already knowing the onslaught of teasing he’s about to receive from Suga’s end after the silver-haired boy deals with Bokuto. “Ohoho, he didn’t tell me _that!_ ”

“Yeah, the flower was really gorgeous, too!” Bokuto chimes in. “I was wondering if I could buy some of them from here!”

“Oh?” Suga’s not as excited now, his voice dying down to a low tone. “You mean the carnations?”

“Yup! I want to get a few flowers for, uh, external purposes…” Bokuto’s voice breaks off. “Wait, Suga-san, are you okay?”

Akaashi doesn’t hear Suga’s response because, as a matter of fact, _he’s_ not okay either. His heart is pounding wildly in his chest, a noisy hammering as he staggers against the wall, nothing but completely shocked.

Bokuto’s buying flowers.

Bokuto’s buying _flowers._

Bokuto’s buying _flowers for someone._

_Bokuto has a lover-_

“What do you need the carnations for?” Suga resumes his friendly floral shop clerk tone, clearing his throat twice.

“Oh! I just need a few, it’s for-“

“Is it for a girlfriend?” Suga interrupts, again asking the million-dollar question. Suga sounds just as anxious as Akaashi feels.

Akaashi can’t breathe.

“Eh? No, no, you’re mistaken! It’s not for _my girlfriend_ , jeez!”

_Huh?_

“It’s for Mr. Pickles! I’ve been told I can’t feed him corn-“

Akaashi bursts out of the greenhouse, red-faced and _very, very_ close to short-circuiting. “Bokuto-san, _no!_ ”

-

“How is it that you’re an amazing cook but an idiot when it comes to feeding your plant?” Akaashi asks one night as they sit on the couch together, watching an episode of ‘ _Kitchen Nightmares_ ’.

Bokuto wrinkles his nose at the poor attempt of a pizza on the screen before saying, “Because I treat Mr. Pickles like he’s a person, too! And corn is _very healthy_ , thank you very much, _Prez_.”

Akaashi shakes his head. “Mr. Pickles won’t be thanking you when you send him, choking, to his death.”

“Akaashi!” Bokuto protests. “I’m not going to _kill_ him!”

Akaashi cringes as he remembers the two rotting traps that had received Bokuto’s ‘healthy corn’ as a late-night snack. “Yeah, we’ll see about that. You nearly fed him carnations today.”

“Mr. Pickles deserves the world!” Bokuto huffs, turning his head to look at the yellow flower on their dining table. A soft blush lights up his cheeks as he clears his throat, clearly debating on whether or not he should say something. Akaashi reads right through it. “Um…”

“What were you going to say, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi’s grinning as he looks up at Bokuto, who’s turned a very, _very_ flustered shade of red and is trying his best to avoid Akaashi’s eye contact.

It’s not working, because Bokuto glances down at him every few seconds and has been doing that since ‘ _Kitchen Nightmares_ ’ started. “N-nothing!”

“C’mon, Bokuto-san. When have I ever kept a secret from you? I taught you all there is to know about taking care of, uh, Mr. Pickles.”

“Ah, it’s really nothing, Akaa-“

“Say it!”

An idea flashes in Bokuto’s mind because his eyes light up in an instant, Bokuto turning to Akaashi with a manic grin. “Hey, hey, Akaashi, how about this! If I say it, you have to delete that video you have of mine and Konoha’s summer science project!”

Akaashi gawks at him in dismay. “Is it worth _that much_ , Bokuto-san?”

“Yeah! You have to promise me! Pinky-promise!” Bokuto extends his pinky, wiggling it as he nudges Akaashi’s shoulder with his other hand. “Go! Go! Do it!”

“Fine!” Akaashi says, more because he really does want to know what Bokuto’s thinking and because he can always just ask Konoha for the video again. “I promise. I’ll delete it.”

Bokuto watches him reluctantly delete the video from his camera roll, albeit Akaashi’s whining and Bokuto’s stubborn responses in return. When Akaashi places his phone down and looks up expectantly, he finds that Bokuto’s eyes are glued to the flower on the table.

“So? What were you going to say, Bokuto-san?”

The upperclassman coughs. “Well…”

“I didn’t delete that video for nothing, Bokuto-san-”

“You deserve the world.” Bokuto’s blushing furiously, a hand coming up to hide the embarrassed smile that grows on his face. “I was going to say that you deserve the world too, Akaashi.”

Akaashi’s eyes widen.

Gordon Ramsay screams in the background.

He decides the video is worth deleting.

-

The chrysanthemums and the roses sprout nicely, firm and healthy buds peeking out from the soil. Akaashi smiles when he sees them, crouching down to inspect them more carefully.

Kiyoko nods approvingly. “You’ve been taking really good care of these, Akaashi. I didn’t even have to do anything to them except water them.”

“I’m just glad that they’re not dying on me so soon, especially since chrysanthemums are so hard to grow during the winter,” Akaashi says. “By the way, Kiyoko-san, did we ever hear back from Satan’s Best Friend?”

Kiyoko laughs at the nickname. “She _did_ give us a review on our website as we asked in the email… even though it’s kind of bad.”

Akaashi stares at the 2/5 star review on her phone, accompanied by great paragraphs of profanities and mocking criticism. “‘Kind of bad’, Kiyoko-san?”

-

On September 13th, one week before Bokuto’s birthday, Akaashi sits in front of his laptop and releases a huge sigh.

He’s been doing that for many different reasons: planning the winter fair, keeping his flowers alive, keeping _Mr. Pickles_ alive, juggling student council work, juggling even more coursework, trying to maintain a healthy sleep schedule without relying too much on americanos and espresso shots and, most importantly:

Trying to find Bokuto a birthday present.

He’s been putting that off for a good few days.

Akaashi still has absolutely no idea what to get him.

The bouquet wouldn’t do- after all, his flowers wouldn’t bloom in time for Bokuto’s birthday and a store-made bouquet from Kiyoko’s flowers isn’t much better.

Bokuto’s in the shower, belting out some theme song from a TV show Akaashi briefly remembers watching when he was five and Akaashi seriously considers getting Bokuto a microphone or a trumpet mute, whichever one works best.

He hovers over Konoha’s contact on Facebook. Akaashi considers asking him for advice, Konoha being Bokuto’s best friend and all, but he really isn’t keen on being subject to Konoha’s endless teasing and jokes. He decides to skip that one.

Komi’s name sits underneath, but Akaashi doesn’t want forwarded Pinterest links and 5-Minute Crafts ideas. He could just search those up himself but then again, Bokuto isn’t the person who deserves stuff like that.

That leaves only one name open.

Akaashi cringes before he types the message.

_[ Akaashi (10:52 P.M.): Hi Kuroo-san. Do you know what Bokuto would like for his birthday? ]_

Kuroo’s reply is instant, almost as if he’s been waiting for Akaashi to ask himself.

_[ Kuroo (10:52 P.M.): I’m assuming a Nintendo switch is way out of ur budget lol ]_

Akaashi rolls his eyes, releasing yet another sigh. At this rate, he’s going to lose all his hair.

_[ Akaashi (10:52 P.M.): Yeah lmao. Any other ideas? ]_

_[ Kuroo (10:52 P.M.): He did talk about wanting to see the new Conjuring movie that came out last week… Would you be interested in taking him? I don’t want to see it ]_

_[ Kuroo (10:53 P.M.): That is, if you’re good with horror movies lol ]_

Akaashi’s fine with horror movies. They’ve never bothered him as much as they’ve bothered his family and classmates in the years past.

The only concern is if _Bokuto_ would be able to handle them.

_[ Akaashi (10:53 P.M.): Are you sure Bokuto-san is okay with them? ]_

On the other side of the screen, Kuroo has never typed faster in his entire life.

_[ Kuroo (10:53 P.M.): Yep lmao, he’s very brave ;)) ]_

_[ Akaashi (10:54 P.M.): Okay, then. I’ll buy the tickets right now. ]_

_[ Akaashi (10:54 P.M.): Thank you, Kuroo-san. ]_

_[ Kuroo (10:54 P.M.): No worries. I’m always this kind :)))) ]_

Akaashi grimaces.

-

He decides to look for Bokuto during lunch the next day.

Before that, he’d gone to the cinema and picked up their tickets, blushing furiously when the girl at the ticket booth winked at him and said, “Have fun on your date!”

He wants to tell her that it’s not a date, it’s just a friend, but he secretly enjoys believing that it is.

He hits himself mentally for that.

As he scans the cafeteria, he finds it funny how he’s never done this before. Bokuto eats dinner with him every night and they always have their familiar wake-up routine that includes bickering over the coffee maker, yet Akaashi has never taken the time out of his schedule to find Bokuto for lunch.

He knows that Bokuto wouldn’t be any less than welcoming if Akaashi were to look for him and Akaashi knows he doesn’t have to feel intimidated by any of Bokuto’s friends.

He’s secretly worried about the probability that Bokuto would turn him down, or that any of Bokuto’s classmates would find him _weird_ or even _creepy_ as if Akaashi is seemingly sucking up to Bokuto so he could get some sort of _student council benefits-_

He stops himself there. Today’s not for overthinking.

Especially not today, when he looks up to meet Bokuto’s excited wave and ecstatic grin. Akaashi finds it impossible not to smile as well.

“AKAASHI!” The upperclassman all but hollers, earning the annoyed glares of the other students in the cafeteria. “AKAASHI, HERE, HERE!”

“Shut up!” Konoha snaps beside him, elbowing him in the stomach. “He might not be here for you.”

“WH- oh.” Bokuto stops, hand still in the air. “I didn’t think about that.”

“It’s okay,” Akaashi says when he’s close enough to their table. “I actually have to ask Bokuto-san something.”

He doesn’t sit down when Komi moves a chair over for him, so Bokuto takes the hint and stands up. They head outside, Akaashi’s heart pounding as he clutches the pieces of paper in his jacket. Bokuto doesn’t seem to notice his silence, whistling as he shoots familiar faces a wave and tries to trip Akaashi by shoving his foot in-between Akaashi’s own.

Akaashi coughs and Bokuto meets his gaze innocently.

“What’s up?” Bokuto asks when they’re in the stairway, safely hidden from the prying eyes of Bokuto’s friends.

“I was wondering… uh…” Akaashi swallows the nerves in his throat as he pulls out the tickets. Bokuto’s eyes widen. “I was wondering if you were free on September 19th… like, Friday, the day before your birthday. I want us to do something toge-“

“YES!” Bokuto shouts, interrupting Akaashi as he lets out an excited whoop. “Yes! YES! I’m free I’m free I’m free! I want to hang out with you!”

Akaashi can’t control the smile that graces over his features, mirroring the excited grin on Bokuto’s face. “Okay, okay! I’m glad. I got us tickets to a movie at 7 and I was thinking that we can just eat something before. Afterwards, we can maybe walk around the mall before heading back? I can get you something else-“

“No!” Bokuto shakes his head. “No, don’t get me anything else! This present is already enough!” He glances at the tickets in Akaashi’s hand and gasps. “‘ _The Conjuring 2_ ’?! No way!”

“Oh, is it a bad choice-“

“Nope! I’ve actually been wanting to watch that but Konoha’s too much of a chicken to take me. Kuroo’s just an ass. Thanks, Akaashi!”

Before Akaashi could even register what was going on, Bokuto reaches forward and draws him into a bone-crushing hug, all the while cheering into his ear and repeating his earnest thanks. Akaashi pats Bokuto on the shoulders, _completely freaking out on the inside because, thank the universe, this is going so well and he hasn’t even said anything remotely offensive-_

“Akaashi?”

“Yeah?”

“You can let go now.”

-

If Akaashi were to say that he’s confident that the birthday celebration would go well, he’d be lying.

It starts when Bokuto orders a large popcorn despite Akaashi telling him that he doesn’t actually like cinema popcorn all that much. They’re also the ones at the end of the line heading into the theatre so when they finally find their seat, Akaashi watches in dismay as the entire row has already been filled up before they got there.

That means he’d have to shuffle his way through a bunch of strangers’ legs to get to their seats in the middle.

That means _Bokuto_ would have to do it, too.

Bokuto, with his large popcorn and pointy knees and boisterous hops and loud exclamations-

Akaashi takes the popcorn from Bokuto for the safety of the unsuspecting victims sitting in their row.

After much grunting and jabs at the back of the knees by strangers who didn’t want to get up to let them through, Akaashi and Bokuto finally make their way to the middle of the row. Bokuto plops down loudly, the seat squeaking in protest, his knees knocking the seat in front of him. A man turns around and glares at him.

Bokuto cringes. “Oops, sorry!”

Akaashi stares at the man.

Bokuto’s too tall for the seat, his limbs folding uncomfortably on the chair before Akaashi sighs and lifts the armrest between them.

Bokuto shoots him a grateful grin as he relaxes his arms, reaching out and stretching them. “Thanks, Akaashi!”

The movie begins and from the moment the very first scene plays, Akaashi knew that Kuroo was lying.

And that every unsuspecting person in the theatre will be graced by Bokuto’s (very unnecessary) reactions and (very unnecessary) commentary.

He gets an elbow to the ribs at least seventy times during the entire movie. At one point, Bokuto yelped so loudly that the person sitting in the seat next to him got up and headed to the very front row of empty seats, all that self-inflicting pain just to get away from the terrified college student shivering in the seat next to Akaashi. The couple sitting in front of them are wearing sour expressions that have nothing to do with the movie. Bokuto says ‘sorry’ at least seventy-one times.

Akaashi exhales.

He should’ve gone with ‘ _Zootopia_ ’.

-

Bokuto refuses to sleep that night.

“I’m going to die if I do.” He says stubbornly, curled up on the couch with a thick blanket wrapped around him. He’s staring intently at a replay of ‘ _Hotel Hell_ ’ on the TV. A stuffed toy peeks out from the opening of the blanket.

Akaashi sighs, shaking his head. “It’s almost 11:30, Bokuto-san. You should _really_ get some sleep.”

“Nope!” Bokuto shouts. “I’ve pulled all-nighters before! I can do it again! I am _not_ sleeping tonight!”

“I’ll leave the light on for you, then,” Akaashi says as he heads into his room. “Don’t be too scared, Bokuto-san.”

He sits down on his bed but he doesn’t go to sleep.

He knows why.

He sits and waits, and he doesn’t have to wait for long.

When Bokuto knocks on his door at 11:48, emitting a sheepish “ _I’m scared, Akaashi,_ ”, Akaashi gets up with his blanket, pours them both a glass of water and settles down on the couch next to him.

At exactly 12:00, Akaashi says, “Happy birthday, Koutarou.”

Bokuto beams.

They finish that episode of ’ _Hotel Hell_ ’ together. Bokuto doesn’t forget his noisy commentary.

When Akaashi wakes up the next morning, snuggled comfortably into Bokuto’s side while his roommate’s head rests heavily on his own, he can’t help but smile.

The date isn’t so bad, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote a fluffy Bokuaka fic because my friend @/chenscloud is writing the most angstiest horrifying sad bokuaka fic I’ve ever read in my entire life and SOMEONE has to make up for all those tears. That someone is me. RIP.  
> And I totally picked the Venus flytraps for them to raise because I have one myself and it’s _not like I have a bunch of useless information and care taking tips that I need to vent out-_  
> Also, my boyfriend used to trip me by shoving his foot behind mine when I walked so I totally took that and used it here.  
> And ‘Kitchen Nightmares’. My friends and I once watched ‘Kitchen Nightmares’ for three hours straight.  
> Anyway, I hope you liked this! Again, comments, feedback, and kudos are very much appreciated!  
> I’ve got a twitter now- come scream at me at @/annabelolee__ . See you guys tomorrow! :D  
> -  
> ALSO: Credits to chenscloud for the Bokuto-feeding-Mr.Pickles-vegetables-idea. That is 120% taken from her brain juices.


	3. pancakes and paintings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto tries to deal with his feelings for his student council president. Akaashi pretends not to notice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bokuaka Week - Day 4 - prompt: friends to lovers

Bokuto is having a very, _very_ bad day.

It starts with Kuroo missing his alarm and running late to class, spamming Bokuto and Konoha’s phones with texts messages begging them to make up some sort of excuse to tell the professor. The professor takes his sweet time shouting at them for covering up for Kuroo’s “irresponsible behaviour” and even Konoha manages to look abashed. When Kuroo finally makes it, he sits down unceremoniously in his seat and knocks Bokuto’s coffee off the table with his arm. The cup goes the only direction it can _possibly fly_ and lands unapologetically in Bokuto’s lap.

He stinks of room temperature lattes and a sour mood for the remainder of the class. Kuroo wears a guilty expression throughout the entirety of the physics lecture. Konoha pretends that nothing happened.

During lunch, he heads back to the dorms to change, only to find that he’s forgotten his key _inside_ the apartment. Akaashi’s not answering his phone, either, so Bokuto does the only possible thing his pea-sized brain could think of: climb through the window from the fire landing.

Which, he later finds out, is not a good idea when most of the people on the street scream at him about his burglary (he has to convince them that he does, in fact, live there and that he’s not breaking in) and falling to his death. When he finally manages to bust a window open, he realises that he’s miscalculated and is now standing outside Akaashi’s windowsill.

Outside Akaashi’s room.

He turns beet red.

_This day just cannot get any worse, can it?_

Careful not to knock anything over, he swings a leg over the windowsill in the hopes that none of Akaashi’s plants will fall to their deaths. He places one leg on the ground.

_Crunch._

He freezes.

 _If I break_ anything _, he’s going to have my head-_

He peers at the small packet he’d stepped on, grimacing as he lifts his foot into the air.

A packet of oriental lily seeds stares back.

Bokuto has never felt so relieved in his entire life.

However, his curiosity gets the better of him and he picks up the other seed packets on the ground, noticing seeds for chrysanthemums, carnations, and roses. The roses and chrysanthemums have recently been opened, neatly resealed with metal paperclips. He smiles, remembering Akaashi’s ‘green thumb’ comment from back when they first met, evident in the many plants on his windowsill and the seeds he’s currently picked up.

Bokuto lingers in Akaashi’s room, taking his time walking around and looking at Akaashi’s messily organised setup. It’s slightly creepy, Bokuto notes, but he really can’t beat his overwhelming curiosity and justifies it by telling himself he’ll bleach his brain later. Beside the door, Akaashi has attached a row of hooks where a variety of coats and jackets hung. Underneath it is a short bench, stacked high with jeans and blue scarves and shorts that Bokuto has seen Akaashi wear several times. His wardrobe door is shut neatly, the front of it a collage of taped notices and reminders. Bokuto walks over to take a closer look.

The first thing he notices is Akaashi’s monthly calendar, dates and birthdays and deadlines scribbled in with a wide sort of colours. Underneath it is printouts of November and December, void of Akaashi’s handwriting other than a few notices, one of which catches Bokuto’s eye.

December 6th.

It’s the last day of exams and the first day of winter break. There are flowers doodles in the small box and exclamation marks marked in red around it.

Bokuto snorts. He’s probably trying to be romantic and trying to impress someone-

Oh.

So _that’s_ why it hurts.

His heart clenches tightly, just like the many other times he’s seen Akaashi laughing at someone else’s jokes, someone else’s text, someone else’s-

He makes his way through the house at an alarming speed, changing as fast as he can before grabbing his key and running outside.

He’ll forget about everything he’s just seen. Clorox sounds like his best friend.

Except he doesn’t.

When Akaashi comes home, Bokuto tried to be as sly as he can, leaning back in his chair as he observes Akaashi in front of him.

Which is clearly the wrong move, because the underclassman stops eating to stare quizzically at him. “Is something wrong, Bokuto-san?”

 _Crap! He can see right through me!_ Bokuto flinches. “Ooh, uh, nothing!”

Akaashi frowns. “If it’s about the stuff in the fridge, I’ll be going to the grocery tomorrow-“

“No, not about that at all! It’s nothing, really. You don’t have to worry about anything at all!” Bokuto, to his dismay, shakes his head at lightning speed, scaring Akaashi a little. The latter meets his stare for a few seconds longer before shrugging and going back to eating in their comfortable silence until-

“Akaashi, do you have a girlfriend?” Bokuto blurts.

Akaashi’s face reddens.

_Koutarou, you absolute dumb fuck-_

“Ah!” Akaashi blinks, surprise evident in his features as he sets his fork down. Bokuto’s heart is hammering against his chest, a nonsensical screaming in his ears as he tried to process _what in the world_ he’d just asked Akaashi- “Ah, no. I don’t have a girlfriend. I… I think you would know if I did.”

“Oh,” Bokuto says _like the idiot he is._

“Why the sudden question?” Akaashi pushes the plate away from him now, crossing his arms as he meets Bokuto’s stare. “It’s not something we normally talk about.”

“Well… I really _was_ just wondering…since, uh, perhaps you’d, uh…like to…” Bokuto stutters, flinching and sweating under Akaashi’s intense gaze, a million questions flinging themselves at him. He cuts off at the end of his sentence when the possibility that Akaashi might not like _like_ him pops into his mind and he curses himself for always acting before thinking things through. They mirror the furious red blushes on each other’s faces, Akaashi reaching up to rub the back of his neck. Bokuto cringes, feeling so _damn awkward._

_Gah. I shouldn’t have said anything._

“I… I don’t….” Akaashi starts, interrupting the silence. He’s taken a great interest at the patterns on the table, his ears a bright red as he dips his head. “I don’t like girls… Bokuto-san.”

“…oh.”

“Yeah…”

“…me neither.”

Bokuto wants to bang his head against the fridge with enough force to power the damn thing for a month.

“Well!” Akaashi stands up, clearing his throat. “This is… very awkward. Thanks for the meal, Bokuto-san. Don’t go to bed too late.”

“Yeah! See ya!” Bokuto’s voice cracks. He flinches.

Bokuto’s, indeed, having a very, _very_ bad day.

-

“You did what now?”

“I nearly asked him out.”

“Okay…?”

“I also perhaps kind of maybe forcefully made him admit that he’s gay?”

“…good going, Bo.”

“Kuroo, what do I _do?_ It’s so awkward, oh my God!”

“How should I know?! I’ve never been in a situation like that!”

“What would _you_ do if you were in my situation, then?”

“I’d just admit it, Kou!”

“Admit _what?_ ”

“Admit that I like him, goodness gracious!”

“…”

“Are you in denial even _now_ , Bokuto?”

“I don’t know if I actually like him or if it’s Stockholm syndrome-“

“I swear Akaashi said the same thing-“

“I don’t want to lead him on, Kuroo! What if I don’t actually like him? What if this is some sort of unexpected attraction due to the fact that I’ve been living with this guy for three months and-“

“Are you doubting your feelings for him?”

“Feelings-“

“Do you like him, Bokuto?”

“Well… I want to spend my evenings with him, and I want to watch movies with him, too, and I like it when he sends me things that he thinks I’ll like, and it’s great waking up to coffee with him-“

“What do you _want_ to do?”

“…what do you mean?”

“If you want to be with him, I don’t see why you shouldn’t go for it, unless you’re saying you don’t?”

“No, it’s not that! I just want to be certain! I don’t want to be the one who rejects him if all goes wrong in the end.”

“Really?”

“…no.”

“Then what is it?”

“…I don’t want to be rejected, Kuroo.”

Kuroo laughs. “That’s the least of your worries, Kou.”

-

Bokuto steps on eggshells around Akaashi.

He still joins Akaashi during dinner and they walk to school together, but the silences between them feel heavy with tension and awkwardness that Bokuto just can’t stand. Akaashi’s physically uncomfortable as well, looking as if he’s on edge every time Bokuto comes into view.

Bokuto tries to act normal, _he really does_ , but he’s never been good at pretending, and it doesn’t help that Akaashi can read right through him.

There was one night when they were sitting next to each other in the middle of the couch, watching an episode of ‘ _Kitchen Nightmares’_ to try to get their tempo back to normal when Bokuto sneezed and accidentally spilt the popcorn bowl all over Akaashi, who’d rested his head against the back of the couch and inevitably received a face full of popcorn kernels.

“Gah, I’m sorry!” Bokuto yelps as he quickly sets the bowl on the table before leaning over and picking the kernels out from Akaashi’s hair-

He doesn’t realize how close they are until he realises he can count every single one of Akaashi’s eyelashes.

Akaashi’s glowing red, a deep flush on his neck and his ears and Bokuto jerks back suddenly, his hand still poised, because _Akaashi’s_ mad _mad and he’s going to have my head-_

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi coughs.

Bokuto yelps.

The next evening, Bokuto moves to the end of the couch.

This goes on for two weeks.

Bokuto hates that.

He wracks his brain for ideas of ways to make it up to Akaashi since, after all, this whole ordeal _is_ his fault after snooping around in Akaashi’s room. He regrets doing that now, since the last time he peeked inside the room when Akaashi wasn’t home, he found that the seeds were gone.

Bokuto feels slightly responsible for that.

It’s what encourages him to step tentatively into the art building after his last class of the day. He spends the first ten minutes trying to locate Akaashi’s classroom on his own, before giving up and asking the students if they’d seen Akaashi.

He’s met with surprised stares. “You want to find Prez?”

“Yeah…” Bokuto shuffles awkwardly. “Is something wrong?”

“Well, he usually doesn’t like being disturbed.” One student (Bokuto’s pretty sure his name is Fukunaga, but he can’t seem to remember for the life of him) tells him. “I’m in the same design class as him and he mostly spends the afternoons in the classroom by himself to finish up some work before he goes to his part-time job.”

“Oh!” Bokuto curses himself for never knowing that. He’s never taken it upon himself to ask and the revelation fills him with waves of guilt. “Can you show me where that is?”

“Are you sure?” Maybe-Fukunaga winces. “As I said before, he doesn’t like being disturbed. He gets kind of cranky.”

Bokuto’s pretty sure the last thing Akaashi wants to do is see him right now, much less _talk_ to him, but he’s got to give everything a shot, right? He can’t take any more of this awkward tiptoeing and quiet morning exchanges. It’s _killing_ him. “I’m sure it’s okay! He’s my roommate.”

Fukunaga’s eyes widen. “Oh, so _you’re_ Bokuto? He’s told me a lot about-“

“Yeah, that’s me!” Bokuto interrupts loudly, _really_ not wanting to hear about what possible insults Akaashi had thrown his way during their two weeks of pure awkwardness. “Haha! I didn’t know he talked about me to other people! Haha!”

An amused expression crosses Fukunaga’s face but he doesn’t mention it, instead turning around and walking Bokuto up the stairs. They stop on the fifth floor and Fukunaga points to a classroom at the end of the hallway. “Down there, with all the glass windows. If he’s hunched over a tablet, he’s working on his design stuff. That’s a good sign that he doesn’t want to be disturbed. If he’s just on his laptop, he’s probably just doing student council work. He’ll be less angry if you interrupt him then.”

Bokuto grimaces. “Yikes. Good to know.”

He waits until Fukunaga’s gone down the stairs again before sighing loudly. He fights back the jealous frown that threatens to cross his features, an honest-to-God reaction on how Fukunaga could _possibly_ know those things unless he’s experienced them for himself.

Jealousy.

That’s new.

Bokuto swallows the pounding in his throat.

Every step he takes squeaks against the clean floors. Trying to distract himself, Bokuto glances up beside him, noticing that all along the walls, works of different art students have been pasted for display, a collage of random artworks each just as beautiful as the previous one. They’re prints made with pride, paintings and drawings sketched with purpose and a genuine love for the art.

One catches his eye and Bokuto stops in his tracks.

Judging from the wide strokes and layers of dark colour, it’s a painting.

Most importantly, it’s a painting of _him_.

In the painting, he’s holding a yellow flower (a _carnation_ , Bokuto notices) in his hand, raised high above his head. Beige and yellow light cascades down his arm and chest and brings out a happy, genuine glow from his face. His eyes are bright and alive, his face glowing as he mirrors the carnation, the only parts of the painting not shrouded in darkness. In the painting, he’s beaming.

At the bottom right-hand corner, Bokuto recognises Akaashi’s signature.

His heart is hammering in his chest. His breath is snatched right out of him.

_He made a painting of me he made a painting of me a painting of mE-_

Before he knows it, he’s made it to the end of the hallway. The door is wide open, thankfully, and Bokuto slowly approaches it and peeks into the classroom from his safe spot behind the wall.

Akaashi’s sitting at the seat by the window, the same one that Bokuto saw from his lab a few weeks ago. He’s hunched over his tablet, hand moving to make quick sketches. The late afternoon light seeps into the classroom, lighting one side of Akaashi’s body in a gentle glow while the other side remains dark. _He’s glowing_ , Bokuto couldn’t help but think. _He looks like an angel._

His earphones are plugged in and he doesn’t hear Bokuto walk in.

_Wow, I am very brave today._

Bokuto’s not sure if he should be doing this.

Bokuto’s _really_ not sure if he should be doing this, especially since he and Akaashi still aren’t back to normal terms and Akaashi’s probably going to punch him-

He does it anyway.

He begs the gods to let him live one more day so he can at least say farewell to Mr. Pickles, maybe even feed Mr. Pickles a piece of spinach since Kuroo told him that spinach is the healthiest vegetable.

Never mind that now.

He stops behind Akaashi, counting silently to five before reaching down and folding his arms around the other’s chest. He rests his chin on the top of Akaashi’s head.

“I’m sorry, Akaashi.”

He feels Akaashi freeze, his shoulders going stock-still as he registers the body clinging to him from behind. He moves his head slightly and recognises the watch on Bokuto’s wrist. Akaashi doesn’t move.

Bokuto expects a punch to come slinging his way, maybe even Fukunaga’s predicted displays of anger. He braces himself for impact.

He doesn’t get it.

Instead, Akaashi sets his pencil down against his tablet. He pulls off his earphones with his right hand and sighs gently before closing the other around Bokuto’s arm.

“It’s okay, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto short-circuits.

“I didn’t know you painted, Akaashi,”

Akaashi turns bright red. “You saw,”

“Yup,”

“Are you angry? I’m sorry, I should’ve asked for your permission first.”

“Not angry at all. Think I can keep the print?”

He doesn’t miss the grin on Akaashi’s face. “Yeah, yeah, you can.”

-

“You guys back to normal yet?”

“Yeah, thank God!”

“Do I finally get a confession story from either of you?”

“Uh… no, but he did tell me not to feed Mr. Pickles spinach, though.”

“Aw, dang! Shouldn’t it be healthy for the plant?”

“That’s what I _told him_ , Kuroo, but he won’t listen!”

“Wait, Kuroo, what do you mean _confession story from either of-“_

-

Bokuto learns that he can get jealous.

Bokuto learns that he doesn’t like it when he’s jealous.

Bokuto learns that Konoha doesn’t like it when he gets jealous, either.

It starts when he and Konoha are doing another lab in the chemistry room, Bokuto conveniently choosing the station closest to the art wing. Bokuto spends the first half of the lab genuinely helping Konoha out with the measurements and procedure before hopping over to the windows to hopefully catch Akaashi’s eye.

Akaashi’s sitting by the window again and he looks up after Bokuto’s frantic waving catches his attention. A grin breaks his previous stoic feature and he waves. Bokuto beams back before Konoha drags him away by the collar to help with the titration.

When he peeks out the window again, he’s horrified to find that Akaashi’s not looking up anymore.

Instead, Akaashi’s attention is turned to the person next to him, a person whose face is hidden from view but, from what Bokuto can read on Akaashi’s features, is a _fun_ companion who can manage to hold a conversation with Akaashi and even makes Akaashi _laugh-_

“Who sits beside Akaashi in digital design?” Bokuto asks Konoha when his lab partner walks up beside him.

Konoha thumps him on the head. “Stop being jealous, Bokuto. You’re not even dating him.”

Bokuto whines. “What! I just asked a question!”

“A _stupid_ question, mind you.” Konoha clicks his tongue. “You’re only allowed to ask things like that when you actually grow a pair and confess- wait, I’m kidding, you’re never allowed to ask questions like that, you possessive stalker.”

Bokuto gawks.

Konoha receives full marks for the labs.

He’s beaming when the professor shows his lab report to the class, marvelling over Konoha’s well-noted procedure and detailed observations. The professor even praises Konoha’s chicken scratch and sad excuse for one’s handwriting. Konoha’s glowing, Bokuto notes, and Kuroo looks livid beside them with his red 96% circled on the top of his lab book.

Bokuto, despite receiving the same marks, is a _fucking asshat_ in Konoha’s opinion, because he catches Konoha’s eye and can’t help but mutter a few words of encouragement to him.

“Konoha Akinori, jack of all trades-“ Bokuto starts.

Konoha’s eyes flash. “I dare you to finish that, you fucking turd-“

“-master of _none_.”

Konoha stabs Bokuto’s leg with the back of his pencil.

-

Akaashi’s birthday lands unceremoniously on the fourth day of exams.

“I’ll bake a cake for you!” Bokuto promises after Akaashi reveals that he’ll be having an art critique on December 5th, the same day.

Akaashi brightens. “You can bake desserts?”

 _Oh._ “Well, no, but I can try, right?”

Akaashi winces at the idea. “We can just order a cake, Bokuto-san. Don’t risk it. I don’t want to be doused in water again.”

Bokuto gets brief but traumatic flashbacks to when he lit up firecrackers in Akaashi’s face. “Aw, c’mon Prez, don’t tell me you’re still hung up over _that-_ “

“I’ll be ‘hung up’ over that for as long as we’re roommates, Bokuto-san.”

“Akaashi!”

-

November passes with them on good terms. To Bokuto’s relief, their routine is back to normal, even though they’re now simultaneously pulling all-nighters in preparation for their exams in December. Bokuto’s busier than ever, cramming all his physical chemistry work into this month as he desperately tries to catch up with the information he’s learned the previous few months. Akaashi’s rushing art projects as well, churning out drawing after drawing as he makes prints and prepares to hand them in by the end of the month. They’re both too busy for their evening hangouts and, though no apology is said, Bokuto catches it in the way Akaashi always prepares two cups of tea and in the way he leaves the lamp on throughout the night.

A few Friday evenings of Gordon Ramsay are skipped in favour of sitting at the dining table and finishing coursework. Bokuto plays soothing Christmas music one month early.

But Bokuto finds that he doesn’t mind. As long as he’s spending time with Akaashi, he notices that he’s happy.

He’s not sure what to think of it, other than the fact that he knows what he needs and wants to do but is too cowardly to do it.

One evening, Bokuto finds it impossible to fall asleep.

He’s worried about a lot of things, such as his final exam on December 6th and his and Konoha’s remaining lab reports and-

Akaashi.

He considers confessing to Akaashi right then and there at one in the morning on a Thursday night, _he really does_ , but he’s scared. He’s been ignoring Kuroo and Konoha’s encouragement for the past month and he groans, rolling over to his side as he stares blankly at the wall.

He chickens out.

-

December rolls by way too quickly. Bokuto doesn’t even notice until Akaashi walks into the living room one morning, holding a piece of paper in his hand. Bokuto recognises the hand-drawn boxes and the various shades of colour.

“It’s December, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi says in pure shock. “Since when?!”

“No way!” Bokuto yelps. “That’s five days until your birthday!”

Akaashi snorts. “Bokuto, that’s six days until your exam. Are you ready for that?”

“We can worry about that later,” Bokuto says dismissively, waving his hand in the air. “Say, Akaashi, are you free on your birthday? I’ve got plans!”

Akaashi grins. “What do you have in mind?”

-

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” Bokuto slams Akaashi’s door open at 7 in the morning, watching as Akaashi groans underneath all his blankets. “Get up, get up, get up! We’ve got plans for today!”

From Akaashi’s dangerous tone Bokuto infers that he may receive a beating from Akaashi’s end, but he’s too excited to care. Akaashi’s the very opposite. “Bokuto-san, we don’t need to get up until 7:30-“

“I’m not wasting any more of my precious time with you, Akaashi! The art wing’s taking up so much of your time already, especially since you’re having your critique today and I don’t get to see you!”

Bokuto’s secretly shaking with excitement, watching ecstatically as Akaashi groans one more time before getting up. He pads over to the bathroom, grumbling profanities under his breath as he gets ready. He comes out looking _extremely exhausted_ in a few minutes.

“What do you have planned for me today, Bokuto-san?”

“First! Your birthday present.” Bokuto picks up the cardboard box on the table and hands it over. Akaashi furrows his brows.

He opens it slowly and delicately, making sure not to tear the wrapping paper more than he should and not to destroy the box. When he finally dumps out all of the peanuts, Bokuto watches in glee as Akaashi gawks at the gift inside the box.

“Wow!” Akaashi says breathlessly, holding up the mug. He admires the small owl doodles around the cup and breaks into a grin when he sees a brown owl wearing glasses. “You did not get me a customized mug. Is that me, Bokuto-san?!”

“I got you a customized mug.” Bokuto beams. “And yes, that’s you. I got Komi to help me with the art!”

The tips of Akaashi’s ears are bright red as he laughs, shaking his head. “This is so cute, Bokuto-san. You really are better than me when it comes to gifts.”

“No negativity today!” Bokuto barks. He shoves a large stack of pancakes at Akaashi, the latter’s eyes widening in surprise. “Ta-da! I had to specifically research how to do pancake art for this, but it turned out better than I expected! Kuroo told me to practice a few times before I did it officially but I just didn’t have the ti- Akaashi?”

Akaashi’s still gawking at the pancake art. “Bokuto-san, this is so pretty! I-I can’t eat this! This is too much! You didn’t have to do all this for me-”

He snaps at least twenty pictures of it. At least one goes on his Instagram story.

Akaashi eats the pancakes anyway. Akaashi smiles. Bokuto finds it difficult to keep a straight face.

When Akaashi comes back in the evening holding a few flowers in his hand (“ _They’re from Kiyoko-san, Kou. Calm down._ ”), Bokuto’s already waiting excitedly in the living room. He’d asked Komi and Kuroo to help him with the fort, knowing that asking Konoha would be more counterproductive than anything. They’d gotten it done just in time, Bokuto grinning when he finally took a good look at the results of their hard work.

Akaashi pauses halfway between taking off his shoes when he notices the large setup in front of the television. “Bokuto-san, what is _that_?”

“Pillow fort!” Bokuto cheers from between the thick swaddle of blankets. “Hurry up and get changed, Akaashi. We’re going to stay up watching stupid Christmas movies and eating popcorn!”

“Should we watch ‘ _The Conjuring_ ’-“

“ _No_ , Akaashi! Hurry up!”

He hears Akaashi laugh as he shuts the door beside him and Bokuto’s heart does an involuntary flutter.

Bokuto blinks.

In other words (in Kuroo’s words), _he’s so fucked._

Akaashi settles down beside him and Bokuto presses play on the TV. Much to Akaashi’s dismay, ’ _Christmas with the Kranks_ ’ starts playing on full volume and it doesn’t take him very long to physically cringe.

“Is this your plan, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi winces. “Destroy my 19th birthday by making me cringe so hard to a point of no return?”

“I’m teaching you patience and resistance, Akaashi.” Bokuto says nonchalantly as he tosses popcorn at Akaashi. “Don’t complain!”

Akaashi yelps as the popcorn hits him but the grin never leaves his face. They spend a good portion of the night laughing at cringey and badly written scenes, as well as interesting characters they relate to or find intriguing. At one point, Akaashi points at the Grinch and says in an earnest tone, “Bokuto-san, he really looks like you.”

Bokuto lets it slide, but not before tackling Akaashi in a headlock and tickling his sides.

In the end, Akaashi falls asleep sometime after 2, in the middle of ‘ _Santa Claus: The Movie_ ’, his head slumped against Bokuto’s shoulder, still hugging the popcorn bowl. Bokuto tidies up the fort, trying not to wake him up because he knows Akaashi’s a light sleeper despite accidentally stepping on Akaashi’s fingers several times.

He covers Akaashi with a blanket before settling above him on the couch.

He shuts his eyes. He sighs.

_He’s really, really fucked._

-

December 6th begins with chaos.

Both of them sleep well past their alarms (Bokuto sleeping past all of the missed calls) and only wake up when Kuroo rings Akaashi and demands in a booming voice, “ _Bokuto, if you’re listening, where the fuck are you?!”_

It isn’t until they’re halfway to the elevators when Bokuto realises why his neck feels like it’s about to fall off in the December cold. “Akaashi!”

His roommate stops in alarm, frightened at the sudden yell in Bokuto’s voice. “What? What?!”

“I forgot my scarf!” Bokuto says, patting his coat for his key, but Akaashi beats him to it, already sprinting back. “Oh, thank you!”

“Give me a second!” Akaashi yells back, opening the door and disappearing. He comes back out a few seconds later, holding a scarf in his hand as he hands it to Bokuto. “Here!”

“Thank you!” Bokuto bows deeply, wrapping the scarf around his neck without caring that his yellow scarf would probably clash with his outfit. The scarf smells familiar, too familiar, but he can’t place his finger on it. Besides, there are other things to worry about.

Such as his physical chemistry exam in half an hour.

He makes it in time, Akaashi waving excitedly as he drops him off outside the science building, shouting a short message of good luck before Bokuto disappears behind the glass doors.

Konoha arches an eyebrow at Bokuto’s outfit when Bokuto walks in. “Interesting. Haven’t seen you wear that before. Looks good.”

Bokuto frowns but doesn’t think twice about it.

He sets his pencil down and exhales in relief, a grin spreading on his face as he admires the test paper in front of him.

It’s easier than the exam he took last year, a clear indication that his all-nighters and hard work paid off. He hands the test paper to the professor, bids him a ‘happy holidays’, and walks out of the chemistry lab feeling more relaxed than he has for the past month.

It’s sometime in the late afternoon, the sunlight streaming into the chemistry building in gold, rectangular waves, warming Bokuto’s nose and his cheeks and his frozen hands. He smiles contently, basking in the sunlight that streams into the hallway. He tosses his coat over his shoulders and readjusts the scarf around his nose, only pausing in his slow walk when he realises that he doesn’t recognise the blue and white pattern thrown across his neck.

Blue and white.

He stops, eyes wide.

The scarf Akaashi had given him that morning wasn’t his. It was _Akaashi’s_ , and he’d been wearing it for the whole day without even realising it.

Bokuto’s about to short-circuit.

Heart hammering, he springs into a run, bolting down the stairs to the front entrance. He pushes open the front door only to come to an abrupt stop in his sprint as his eyes widen and he gapes at the person standing in front of the building.

Under the golden sunlight, the other man’s eyes twinkle like aquamarine, a beautiful blue and green blaze that sends shivers down Bokuto’s spine. He’s standing timidly underneath a tree, his nose red from the cold as he shuffles his weight from one foot to the other. Snow falls gently into his hair and his coat and, even though Bokuto has just seen him that morning, he looks surreal, almost like someone straight out of a painting of their lover. He clutches a giant bouquet in his hands, a mix of bright yellow flowers, of yellow roses, chrysanthemums, lilies, and the yellow carnations that he’d given Bokuto back in September. He exhales, his breath leaving him in a hazy cloud as he scans the courtyard for a familiar face.

Their eyes meet. The student council president freezes before he smiles.

Bokuto can’t breathe.

“Bokuto-san!” Akaashi shouts. “Congrats on finishing your exam!”

Bokuto could only think about the bright-eyed man standing a few feet away, clutching a bouquet of flowers tightly in his hands as he takes timid steps toward him.

Akaashi laughs nervously. “Konoha told me you take around an hour and a half for your exams but I got here a little early so I wouldn’t miss you on your way out. I’m assuming the exam was easy this time?”

Akaashi’s almost in front of him now. Bokuto can count the buttons on his coat and the loose threads in his sleeves. “Anyway, I just wanted to come here to pick you up and we can go somewhere if you don’t have any plans. I know a park with a lake that’s really pretty in the winter and I brought our skates but only if you want to skate, I mean.”

He exhales nervously, not meeting Bokuto’s eyes as he stops in front of the upperclassman. Bokuto can count the eyelashes on his face and the red dots that form the blush across his face.

Bokuto realizes that this is the closest he will get to a confession.

Bokuto realizes that Akaashi’s confession is the only one he wants to hear.

He breaks into a giant, _giant_ relieved smile, a laugh leaving him and escaping as a white swirl. Akaashi looks up surprisingly at the sound, bright aquamarine eyes meeting a golden reflection as the upperclassman pulls him in for a hug. Akaashi yelps, moving the bouquet behind his back for safety as Bokuto burrows his nose into Akaashi’s neck. He hears the president laugh, one arm coming around Bokuto’s neck to pull him in tighter.

Under the warm sunlight of the late afternoon and the snow falling into Akaashi’s dark hair, Bokuto decides that he only ever wants to receive flowers and hugs from this one student council president for the rest of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD OH MY GOD THEYRESOCUTETHEYRESOCUTE  
> I REALLY REALLY WANTED TO SHARE THIS CHAPTER WITH YOU GUYS BECAUSE FINALLY!! ONE OF THEM ADMITS SOMETHING!! AGHHHAGHAKJDGOEUHG  
> i could not stop smiling the entire time i wrote this. this was just too cute.  
> I hope you enjoyed this!! :DD see you guys in TWO days


	4. mistletoe and midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five times Akaashi and Bokuto fail to tell each other about their crush and the one time Akaashi succeeds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bokuaka Week - Day 6 - prompt: five things (5+1)

1\. _Winter break spent at the mall, the day before Christmas._

Perhaps it had something to do with the mistletoe.

Akaashi had gone home for a week of Christmas break and Bokuto was definitely, definitely lonely.

For the first time, ever, Bokuto found that he didn’t want to spend Christmas alone. He’d never had a significant other to spend it with in the years past and he did just spend it with Konoha and Kuroo and his family alternatively, yet this time he found that the empty dorm with just him in it felt too lonely.

The solitude and silence he used to enjoy on his own was suddenly too much and he was at a loss for words when Akaashi gave him a tight hug farewell before speeding off to the airport in the late hours of the evening. He'd watched the other leave, the car going down the road until it took its turn and disappeared.

It didn’t help that Konoha was the dedicated Mall Santa this year. The idiot had ditched spending Christmas together like the two losers they were and instead signed up for a part-time at the mall, only to be given the most hideous position the staff could possibly get their hands on. Konoha sat on the giant overstuffed red chair for an hour at a time, rotating with a few other Mall Santas while they took pictures with the children. On the day they went to get Konoha’s Santa suit, Kuroo didn’t fail to mention that the other Mall Santas were all mostly in their sixties. Konoha had thrown the suit at him.

That’s how Bokuto found himself with Kuroo at nine in the morning at the mall, standing beside a pillar as Konoha sat in the ‘stupid, stupid chair’, faking a large grin as he took pictures with overexcited children.

“He’s too skinny to be an adequate Santa,” Kuroo mused. “He’s not jolly at all. Look at the sour Santa expression he’s wearing right now. The kids probably find sitting on his lap painful.”

“I can see him gritting his teeth in pain,” Bokuto added. “I bet he regrets signing up for this job.”

“Of course he does. When did we ever consider _Konoha_ as a Mall Santa? When did _Konoha_ ever consider Konoha as a Mall Santa?”

“Never, and for good reason too.”

At that instant, Bokuto’s phone rang a special ringtone that signified a voice that Bokuto had missed in the past few hours. Grinning (and ignoring Kuroo’s raised eyebrows and wicked smirk), Bokuto unlocked his phone and picked up the call, not even waiting to say ‘hello’ before he shouted, “Akaashi, Akaashi!”

“Calm down, Bokuto-san,” the familiar voice laughed from the other side of the call. “I just landed and you’re way too excited. It’s only been a couple of hours. The airport is extremely crowded so I can’t really hear you, by the way.”

“It’s been too long,” Bokuto pouted. “I had to watch ‘Kitchen Nightmares’ alone last night. That’s completely your fault.”

“Oi, you better not be watching ahead of me.”

“No, no, of course not.” Bokuto lied.

Kuroo snorted beside him. “You missed your boyfriend _that_ much?”

“He is _not_ my boyfriend,” Bokuto barked at the same time Akaashi said, “ _Is that Kuroo?”_

Kuroo opened his mouth to reply snarkily before he stopped abruptly, elbowing Bokuto in the ribs for his attention. Bokuto yelped in alarm. “Yo, look over there. It’s Daishou and Mika-chan.”

Bokuto followed his gaze to see the familiar black-haired boy standing near the Santa booth, back turned towards them as he conversed fervently with a girl. Mika’s smiling, her posture relaxed as they discussed something widely to her interest, something that Bokuto guessed wasn’t anything close to volleyball. Mika peered behind him every so often, keeping an eye on a small kid at the Santa booth, the child hopping eagerly up and down as he vouched for Konoha’s attention. Konoha’s eye twitched behind his round glasses.

“We see Daishou and Mika-chan! They’re at the mall, too.” Bokuto explained after the prolonged silence. Akaashi hummed in acknowledgement.

Bokuto raised his hand high above his head, ready to greet them with his energetic wave before Kuroo tugged his hand down, moving his finger to his lips as he kicked Bokuto in the ankles. “You dense idiot, look at where they are.”

Bokuto blinked, confused. “Huh?”

But he soon got his question answered when Mika tugged on Daishou’s arm and pointed above them. Bokuto, along with Daishou, looked up to the ceiling where a familiar green plant hung above them, decorated with a bright ribbon that mirrored the colour on Daishou’s cheeks. Daishou blushed and laughed nervously when he regarded the mistletoe.

Kuroo snorted from beside him. “What an idiot.”

“You don’t even have a date,” Bokuto interrupted.

“You’re spending Christmas alone. At least I’m spending it with my relatives.” Kuroo shot back.

“ _No,_ I have Konoha-“

“Konoha’s spending Christmas with the kids in the mall.”

“ _I have_ -“

“You don’t have Akaashi. Video calls don’t count.”

Akaashi coughed, clearly having heard everything. Bokuto scowled as he turned his attention back to Daishou and Mika, who were now standing awkwardly next to each other. Kuroo snorted again.

In the end, Daishou grew a pair and leaned down and kissed her.

Bokuto’s eyes widened as he turned around to face the pillar. He felt like he’d intruded on something very personal and something not meant for anyone to see, an intimate moment shared between two people that wasn't meant for him to notice. “I did not see that. I did not see that.”

“ _Were they kissing?_ ”

“Yeah, yeah! There was mistletoe and all.” Bokuto cleared his throat. “They didn’t need to _rub it in my face_ , you know.”

“ _Bokuto-san, I’m pretty sure they’re not-_ “

“Kuroo!” Bokuto tugged at the raven-haired boy’s arm, ignoring the other’s yelps in annoyance. “Look!”

He pointed above them, where a ribbon of mistletoe hung a few steps away.

Kuroo snorted. “Nope.”

“It’s the rule!”

“I’m not kissing your nasty face, Kou.”

“I dare you and Kuroo to stand and make out under the mistletoe,” Akaashi said at the same time.

Bokuto froze.

_Not him._

_I’d rather stand under the mistletoe with you._

_That’s because I’d rather spend Christmas with you._

_I like you._

Bokuto finally came to his senses and laughed in response, but the longer he spent staring at the plant, the better he knew what he longed for and what he missed. It left him feeling hollow and confused because Akaashi wasn’t there with him and he was just really, _really_ lonely, even though it’s nothing different from the years past. Their conversation continued to flow smoothly, Akaashi chattering about the strangers on the plane and the kids screaming noisily in the train, yet Bokuto couldn’t fight the painful thudding in his chest everytime he stole a glance at Daishou and Mika. He told himself it was nothing, but he didn’t believe it, couldn't believe it, because he's never felt this way about anyone before. In the end, Akaashi let out a huge yawn and promised Bokuto he’d call him later when he got home, and Bokuto hung up reluctantly.

Kuroo caught him staring longingly at the phone and said, “You should tell him sometime, Bokuto.”

Bokuto swallowed the nerves in his throat as he shook his head. Akaashi’s voice echoed in his ears.

 _It definitely had everything to do with the mistletoe_ , Bokuto thought.

2\. _Finally coming home, one day before the New Year._

Perhaps it had something to do with the fireworks.

Akaashi didn’t like loud noises- no, Akaashi _hated_ loud noises, and the fireworks blasting in the air at 12 in the morning did little to lighten his mood.

He was tired after the long trip home from the airport. The last thing he’d wanted to do was spend New Year’s on the plane, certainly not with a hundred other grumbling passengers, so he sacrificed his precious sleep schedule to take the first plane back… inconveniently at 4 in the morning the day before. He was pretty sure it was a mistake the second he got smashed into the middle seat, an angry teenager on his left and a foul-smelling man on his right. He was absolutely certain it was a mistake when the man beside him fell asleep and slumped against Akaashi’s shoulder, Akaashi yelping in shock and elbowing the teenager in the ribs beside him. The teenager scowled and clicked his tongue.

He got off the plane with a sour mood and a cramp in his back. The bus to the apartment broke down halfway and Akaashi, along with about twenty other passengers, was forced to stand by the bus stop while they waited for the next bus in the chilly evening air. Akaashi was pretty sure his fingers were about to fall off as he struggled to send a text to Komi. He buried his nose tightly into his blue and white scarf.

He managed to get home sometime around 8 in the evening, his body worn out and exhausted. He opened the door expecting a giant grin and strong arms to hitch him up and give him a big hug, a familiar smile to make his day a little more bearable, but was instead greeted by a cold and empty apartment with all the lights shut off.

Akaashi had tried to fight off the disappointment rising bitterly in his throat as he dropped his bags in his room, changed into comfortable clothes, and sat in front of the TV, hoping to get into a better mood as he binge-watched ‘ _Shark Tank_ ’ on TV. Yet, even after watching four episodes in a row, Akaashi still felt the angry disappointment and foul mood from the day that he couldn’t shake off, so he heaved a heavy sigh and clicked ‘play’ for next episode.

He wasn’t sure when he fell asleep. When he finally opened his eyes, he found himself lying horizontally on the couch, a pillow under his head and a familiar coat tossed over his shoulders. Fireworks blasted outside, continuous booms one after the other, lighting up the dark living room to illuminate the owl mug filled halfway with water on the coffee table beside him.

_Huh. I didn’t get that-_

Akaashi froze. The fireworks continued.

Tossing the coat off of himself in a frenzy, he bolted upright, fumbling around in the dark for his slippers. He hit his ankle against the side of the coffee table and he winced at the sharp jolt of pain that shot up his leg, hopping around on one foot as he tried to locate his other slipper. Finally locating the culprit, he headed straight for the room adjacent to the bathroom. His heart was pounding in his ears, his body a numb tingle as he felt nothing but _excitement_ , a boundless amount of joy at finally seeing someone after a week of video calls and text messages at odd time frames. Seeing the sliver of light that escaped from the crack under the familiar door, he threw the door open.

His heart swelled in his chest and he damn near cried. He let out the breath that he didn’t know he’d been holding.

Bokuto looked up in alarm, fingers still hovering above his textbook as he clutched a highlighter loosely in his hand. His wide eyes, illuminated to gold by the soft lamp in his room, swerved to meet his across the short distance of his room.

He looked so perfect, the glow of the lamp softening his sharp features. Akaashi wanted to be with him forever.

They stared at each other in silence.

“Akaashi-“ Bokuto started, but Akaashi couldn’t hold it in anymore, couldn’t keep it to himself, because his heart had been heavy since the morning and it hadn’t stopped hurting and _now_ , finally, he feels like he could take a break-

“I missed you.” Akaashi blurted.

Bokuto sat in silence before breaking into a huge grin, the same one that Akaashi had been looking forward to for the whole day. He was glowing like a star, like some part of his universe, like he was _everything to Akaashi._ “You bet I missed you too, Akaashi.”

Bokuto pushed his chair away from the desk with the backs of his knees as he turned to walk towards Akaashi.

 _Finally_ , Akaashi thought. _Finally._

He was impatient, Akaashi knew that, and he was pretty sure Bokuto knew it too. That’s why he didn’t bother to wait until Bokuto crossed the room towards him before Akaashi sprinted from his position by the doorway to fling his arms around the other’s shoulders. Bokuto barked out a surprised laugh, hugging him back tightly as firecrackers sounded outside.

“Where were you?” Akaashi asked.

“Konoha’s,” Bokuto admitted sheepishly. “I was too nervous to see you so I just waited until sometime later to come home, but you were already asleep. I’m sorry about that.”

“You should be,” Akaashi sniffed.

“Why, though? Miss me _that_ much, Prez?”

_Yes. Maybe even more than that. I had a horrible, horrible day and I’m just really glad that I get to see you right now._

_I missed you._

_I like you._

“Don’t be so proud,” Akaashi said instead.

Those damn fireworks exploded outside.

 _It definitely had everything to do with the fireworks,_ Akaashi thought.

3\. _February 14th, the first Valentine’s Day he didn’t spend alone._

Perhaps it had something to do with the coffee.

Bokuto could feel Akaashi’s horror coming off of him in ultraviolet rays as Bokuto set the cup down in front of him. The tall mountain of whipped cream threatened to spill out of the mug confining it, failing to have fully melted into the dark pink liquid swirling underneath. Akaashi’s mouth was slightly open as he released a confused, strangling noise from the back of his throat. “Ta-da! My special order!”

Kuroo snickered from behind the counter. Bokuto glared at him to shut him up.

“You… designed this?” Akaashi asked, picking up the suspicious-looking pink liquid, thinking to himself that it resembled a potion he saw on a video game once. “It’s very pretty, Bokuto-san.”

“Thank you!” Bokuto beamed. “I made sure to get the edible glitter and confetti because I didn’t realize the arts and crafts ones were made of paper and some sort of metallic material.”

Akaashi winced, noticing how the liquid glowed and shimmered as he moved it around the light. “Don’t tell me you made one with-“

“I did. I drank it, too.”

“Did you feel sick?” Akaashi was suddenly worried, eyes narrowing as he stood up to examine Bokuto’s face. Bokuto leaned back in surprise as Akaashi placed the back of his hand against Bokuto’s forehead, eyes searching for any indications of sickness. “Were you unwell? I didn’t notice. When was this? Did you go to the doctor to get a checkup? Should we go right now? Are you okay now?”

“Calm down, Akaashi.” Bokuto grinned as he swatted Akaashi’s hand away. Akaashi, having noticed their proximity, muttered an apology under his breath as he took a step backwards. His cheeks were flushed, mirroring Bokuto’s own from Akaashi’s sudden concern and Bokuto had to beat down the urge to spill his heart out on the table right then and there. “I’m perfectly fine. I _won’t_ be if you don’t try my drink, though.”

“I didn’t know you worked here,” Akaashi admitted, sitting back down and taking the warm mug back into his hands. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I guess I forgot,” Bokuto admitted. “My shifts are always shorter than yours at the flower shop, anyway. I didn’t really need to tell you where I worked. Besides, Kuroo’s a pain in the ass so it’s better not to frequent here.”

“Hey!” Kuroo yelled from his spot behind the counter. “I can hear you, you know? Keep your voice down if you want to talk shit about me. Also, Keiji, I’m warning you right now to just take one sip and one sip only to avoid food poisoning, you got it?”

Akaashi grinned. He held up the cup in front of him. The whipped cream teetered dangerously as the drink sloshed out of the cup. “I’m assuming he didn’t approve of your, uh, Valentine’s special?”

“Nope,” Bokuto shook his head. “He said it tasted like someone stomped on his heart and then took a fat shit on it.”

Akaashi cringed. “What do you think?”

“I personally think it tastes good, and as your frequent chef,” Bokuto’s eyes glinted, “I’m sure you’d like it too.”

Akaashi sighed heavily before holding the pink liquid up to his nose. “I can’t argue with that and, besides, I trust you. Here we go.”

He shut his eyes tightly and took one swig.

It took him approximately two seconds to react.

His eyes widened in shock and his fingers tightened around the mug. He looked like he was physically in pain as he swirled the liquid around in his mouth before swallowing it in one go. The aftertaste lingered nastily at the back of his throat and Akaashi’s eyes watered as he suppressed the urge to cough. After three seconds of torture, his face relaxed back into its usual nonchalant expression.

“What’s in this, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi asked.

“Coffee, strawberry purée, cherry juice, vanilla extract, and some soybean milk,” Bokuto said innocently. He tried not to laugh at Akaashi’s visible shock and horror as he listed out the ingredients. “Oh, right, and the edible confetti.”

“Wow,” Akaashi winced as he ran his tongue over his teeth. “Those are… an interesting combination, Bokuto-san.”

“What did you think?”

“The concoction was pleasant… a nice warm taste to begin with, but I think the strawberry and vanilla must’ve clashed. It was very bitter at the end. Did you add sugar?”

Bokuto snapped his fingers. “Ah, that’s what I forgot to do!”

Akaashi’s eyes twitched as he held the cup up to his face and sniffed it. He pulled the cup away, admiring the decoration Bokuto managed to add along the sides. “It _does_ smell really good, though. The decoration is very pretty, too. I like it.”

“You think so?” Bokuto gasped, clapping his hands together. All he could hear was Akaashi’s praise, the _only_ praise that mattered to him, anyway. “You like it?”

Akaashi nodded. “The presentation is really up to-“

“That’s awesome!” Bokuto shouted, whooping and catching the attention of the rest of the customers in the store. Yet he didn’t care, because the one person whose opinion Bokuto valued above all else _liked_ his drink and that was all he needed. “Gah, Akaashi, that’s awesome! Man, you’ve made my day! I’m so glad you love it!”

Akaashi grinned. “You’re welcome, Bokuto-san.”

“You can dump it out now,” Kuroo called from the counter.

_‘Dump it out’._

Bokuto froze, watching as Akaashi slowly stood up, the cup still held in his hands. He walked in slow motion, retreating away from Bokuto and towards the counter.

_‘Dump it out’? But didn’t he like it?_

Perhaps it was his selective hearing getting everything wrong again, and maybe Akaashi just really hated the drink and only said those things to make him feel better because Akaashi’s _like that,_ even though he isn’t, no, not really-

His heart was hammering in his chest as Akaashi walked over to Kuroo, the two of them exchanging a soft conversation that Bokuto couldn’t hear. He watched as Akaashi approached the counter and he bit the inside of his cheek, not wanting to see Akaashi pour the drink down the sink at all.

But Akaashi surprises him, just like he always does.

Akaashi pulled out a napkin from the box on the counter and wiped the coffee that had spilt over the edges of his cup. He dumped the tissue in the trash can as he walked back to his seat, sitting down in front of Bokuto before lifting the drink to his lips.

“It’s pretty good after a while,” Akaashi explained.

Bokuto’s eyes watered.

He wasn’t really sure what he was feeling, or what he was thinking, really.

_I want to make drinks for you for the rest of your life, even if they’re shit._

_I don’t know why I want to do that._

_I think it’s because I like you._

_I like you._

_I like you._

Bokuto hands Akaashi a packet of sugar.

 _It definitely had everything to do with the coffee_ , Bokuto decided.

4\. _In an air-conditioned Walmart, one week before finals._

Perhaps it had something to do with the firecrackers.

Akaashi watched as Bokuto lingered by the red explosives, his fingers turned towards the many boxes that lined up against the wall. His golden eyes were bright and wild, a secretive, excited expression on his face as he slowly approached the sale.

Akaashi wasn’t sure what had gotten him so riled up earlier but now, as they stood in front of the large expanse of firecrackers in front of them, Akaashi regretted taking Bokuto along with him to the market.

“Bokuto-san,”

Like Akaashi expected, Bokuto doesn’t hear him. The latter had approached the explosives, picking up a box and turning it interestedly in his hands. He looked obsessed, nothing but pure joy in his expression as he admired the box in front of him. Akaashi now understood why Bokuto and Konoha had picked firecrackers for their summer project.

“Bokuto-san.” Akaashi repeated, a little louder.

Bokuto straightened immediately, whizzing around to meet Akaashi’s amused stare. He put the firecrackers back immediately, dusting his hands off on his jeans. “You saw nothing, Prez.”

“Really? Firecrackers? In June?”

“They’re on sale,” Bokuto said defensively. “I didn’t get to set any off during the Chinese New Year. You didn’t let me.”

“You were planning on setting them off inside the apartment, Bokuto-san. I didn’t think you wanted to clean that up.”

Bokuto grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck as he headed back to walk next to Akaashi. “I guess you’re right. Let’s keep going- oh, Akaashi, over there! There’s a sale for the soda!”

Akaashi watched Bokuto sprint away, arms outstretched to the many cartons of Sprite that were stacked in the middle of the aisle. A few people clicked their tongues angrily as Bokuto accidentally bumped into them, Bokuto yelling apologies over his shoulder as he embraced the soda.

Akaashi found himself in fond amusement, shaking his head as he headed to the wall.

When they moved their cart to the checkout counter, Bokuto audibly gasped at the three red boxes that Akaashi dug out from the bottom of the cart. Akaashi handed them emotionlessly to the cashier, even though all he wanted to do was break into a grin at Bokuto’s excited expression. “No way, Akaashi! Firecrackers?”

Akaashi tried to control the smile. “What else can they be?”

“Really? Really? Do you really mean it, Akaashi? Are they for me?”

“No, Bokuto-san, they’re for the both of us. We can set them off later tonight”

Bokuto’s smile could light up every building within the perimeter. Akaashi found it difficult to tear his gaze away.

“Awsh, thank you, Akaashi! You’re the best!”

Akaashi earned a bone-crushing hug from the upperclassman, who whooped and cheered even on his way out of the supermarket. Later, while they walked side by side back to the dorms, Bokuto asked his million-dollar question.

“Why did you buy them, Akaashi? I thought you didn’t like loud noises.”

_I don’t know why I bought them._

_I guess I just wanted to see you happy._

_I want to see you happy because I like you, Bokuto-san._

“I never said you were allowed to set them off inside the apartment, Kou.”

That evening, they set off the firecrackers in the park. It was loud and the smoke was too much for Akaashi, making his eyes water several times, but Bokuto grinned gleefully and sent videos to Konoha for laughs. When they were done, Bokuto looped an arm around Akaashi’s elbow and showed him the videos he’d recorded. They laughed and even Akaashi admitted that he had fun.

 _It definitely had everything to do with the firecrackers,_ Akaashi decided.

5\. _In their dorm room two months later, on the first day of the new school year._

Perhaps it had something to do with being together.

“How do you feel about being a college sophomore, Akaashi?”

Akaashi shrugged, hauling a cardboard box of toiletries to the bathroom. “It’s not a big deal, Bokuto-san. It’s the same as last year.”

Bokuto gasped, clearly hurt. He chucked a pillow at Akaashi’s head, who dodged the incoming mass and watched it hit the bathroom door unceremoniously. “It is _not_ the same, Akaashi! You have new responsibilities now that you’re part of the whole ‘upperclassman’ thing-“

“Bokuto, you were my upperclassman when I first met you last year.”

“Well, I _know_ that, but-“

“So it’s not that different,” Akaashi said from somewhere inside the bathroom. He walked out a second later, arms empty as he searched the dorm for something else to move. “Besides, I’m the student council president again this year. It’s funny how no one else wants to run for the position.”

“It’s not funny, Keiji. It’s the fact that everyone knows they don’t stand a chance. You crush their spirits like the evil gremlin you are.”

Akaashi blinked innocently. “That is not in my control.”

Bokuto laughed, shaking his head. “You’re right. Hey, do you know where the box of scarves went?”

“Right here!” A small cardboard box is tossed his way. “You know, half of those are mine.”

“Wrong. Ninety percent of those are yours. I just steal them to wear.”

“This is not communism, Bokuto-san-“

“As long as you’re rooming with me, everything that is yours is now mine!” Bokuto laughed mercilessly. “Ah, I love this feeling of togetherness!”

Akaashi clicked his tongue. “Komi moved in with Sarukui. Konoha needs a roommate. Would be a shame if I moved out-“

“No!” Bokuto yelled, shaking his hands. “Not you! You’re stuck with me forever!”

Akaashi grinned. “Don’t worry. I’m not leaving anytime soon.”

It surprised Bokuto when Akaashi had agreed to room with him again this year. He’d sent the text message at three in the morning during a random day in July after fretting over it for two weeks, fully expecting Akaashi to decline and for Bokuto to live in solitude like he did in his first year, but had been completely shocked out of his mind when Akaashi sent him a thumbs up.

He’d screamed about it to Konoha and Kuroo for the remainder of the summer holidays. The other two told him to ‘get a life’, despite the happy grins they shared during video calls and the thumbs-ups they always sent.

In a sense, Bokuto didn’t want to give Akaashi up just yet. Akaashi had become a familiar in his routine, a constant presence that he couldn’t and didn’t want to ignore. The summer holidays felt strange without seeing Akaashi every evening and, for some unknown reason (that Bokuto secretly knew, if he was honest with himself), he decided that not having Akaashi around just didn’t feel right.

They got the keys to the new dorm together and hauled everything in together.

Bokuto knew he had two more years left with Akaashi as his roommate after they signed the two-year contract in the office. He planned to treasure those two years together, but the thought of ‘ _after_ ’ bothered him to no end.

What would happen after he graduates? What would happen to the two of them?

Akaashi would no longer be routine. Doing homework together would no longer be routine. In fact, everything they’ve built up to now would no longer be routine.

Bokuto’s scared and he wanted to know what Akaashi thought, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask.

Akaashi, as sharp as he always is, could see right through Bokuto’s dilemma. “What’s up, Kou?”

He looked so happy, Bokuto noticed. He’s smiling now as he unpacked the silverware in the kitchen, loading plates into the cabinet. He hummed softly to himself as he moved things around, not as uptight as he used to be.

He looked like he belonged.

“What happens after?” Bokuto blurted.

Akaashi paused, still holding a plate. “After what?”

“After… after senior year.”

Akaashi doesn’t seem to think twice about it as he resumed his unpacking. “It’s the same. We just-“

“I am graduating in _two years!_ ” Bokuto couldn’t help but raise his voice, desperation seeping out of his tone as he tightened his hold on the scarves he’d pulled out of the box. He was holding a familiar one, the blue and white one Akaashi had let him borrow once that he now wore everywhere during the winter, and he held it even tighter. “What happens after that? I’m… I’m not going to be allowed to live in the dorms anymore!”

Akaashi blinked. “So?”

Bokuto gawked, appalled. “‘ _So’_?!”

“I mean,” Akaashi set the plates down as he turned to face Bokuto completely, “we’d still room together, right? We can rent an apartment somewhere nearby, somewhere close to both your job and campus, and it’d just be the same.”

The response faltered in Bokuto’s mouth as he stared. He could not help but stare, could not do anything but stare.

He’d never thought of that as a possibility, didn’t dare think of that being a possibility.

Akaashi shifted his weight on his feet. “Are you… uncomfortable with that? It’s okay, really, I just said what I thought would be natural-”

“No!” Bokuto yelled, Akaashi caught off guard as he jumped a little. “No, no, please. Yes. Yes. Let’s move in together after. Let’s do it.”

Akaashi’s face broke into a relieved grin. He turned back to unpacking his boxes, shaking his head as he clicked his tongue. “You’re so dense, Bokuto-san.”

“Hey!”

“Why were you so scared, anyway?” Akaashi asked as he started to unload the forks. “I’m pretty sure you knew what the obvious answer would be.”

_I was scared to ask because I was afraid that you’d turn me down._

_I was scared to ask because I didn’t want to imagine a possibility where you wouldn’t be with me._

_I was scared to ask because I like you._

_I like you a lot._

_I can’t do anything about that and I don’t want to._

“I was scared that you’d want Mr. Pickles to die.”

Akaashi snorted. “How is he not dead yet?”

Bokuto grinned.

 _It definitely had everything to do with being together._ Bokuto determined.

+1 _. On an early, foggy Sunday morning, the weekend after Akaashi hosted his first exhibit._

Perhaps it had something to do with the rain.

When Akaashi opened his eyes, he found his cheek smushed uncomfortably against a familiar shoulder.

The computer screen on the coffee table was black, the laptop long run out of battery. The time on the digital clock showed 7:14, four hours and sixteen minutes earlier than the usual time Akaashi woke up on the weekend.

Beside him, Bokuto remained sound asleep, his head slumped against Akaashi’s own. Soft snores accompanied the rain pattering against the window, the air outside so foggy that Akaashi couldn’t see anything except the single row of buildings in front of their dorm room.

He yawned, snuggling back down against Bokuto’s shoulder as he tried to get some more sleep.

That was clearly the wrong move, because Bokuto stirred beside him before leaping up and tearing away from Akaashi, a loud yelp escaping him breathlessly.

“I’m so sorry!” Bokuto apologized, eyes still half-lidded with sleep as he shook his hands frightfully. “I didn’t mean to do that! I swear I didn’t think I’d fall asleep watching the movie, I’m so-“

“No,” Akaashi yawned again. The sleep was seriously eating his common sense away but he was still well aware of what he was saying. A million alarm bells rang in his head but he fought against all of it, only really wanting one thing right now, anyway. “Stay. Please. I’m really tired.”

Bokuto shook his head. “No, no, I’m not allowed to do that-“

“I’m sure you are,” Akaashi said. “You like me, I like you. What more is there to it?”

Bokuto winced. “We’re just friends, Akaashi-“

“Do you want to just be friends, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi asked. “Do you want to spend the rest of our time together just dodging the obvious, skirting around what we should be doing every time the opportunity comes up but choosing to keep it in instead? Do you want to do that?”

Bokuto looked uncomfortable, fiddling with his sleeves as he shook his head. He couldn’t meet Akaashi’s eyes, keeping his face downcast. “No, Akaashi, but-“

“But we’re not official, right?” Akaashi pressed. He wasn’t sure where all of this sudden confidence was coming from, but perhaps his sleepiness at 7 in the morning was a big contributing factor. All he knew was that he was tired, he wanted to sleep, and he wanted Bokuto to be with him. “That’s the biggest reason for it all. We’ve never admitted it.”

Bokuto finally nodded. “That’s right.”

“I like you, Kou. I’ve liked you for a good while now. You mean everything to me- ha, you _are_ everything to me, and I look up to you every day because you always push me to do better. I can’t imagine a future without you in it, really, whether that be with you as a friend to go get coffee with or as someone more, someone I can always come home to who’d be waiting for me with a big smile. I love every moment we spent together and I want to spend more with you. Is that okay with you?” There it was. There was the confession, and Akaashi finally felt like he could breathe. The weight on his chest felt lighter and he leaned back against the couch, ignoring the crick in his neck and the soreness behind his knees.

He tossed it all out the window. It’s too late to take it back, now.

_One of us had to do it._

Bokuto was still beside him. He didn’t say anything as he slowly made his way back to Akaashi, this time tugging Akaashi’s sleeve as he sat down on the couch above him. Akaashi followed and sat down next to him, pulling his blanket up to his nose. He exhaled deeply.

“Yeah,” Bokuto finally said. When Akaashi looked over at him, there was a wide, wide, stupid grin on his face. Bokuto finally met Akaashi’s eyes and this time he leans in, their shoulders bumping as Bokuto drops his cheek on Akaashi’s head. “Yeah, I’m okay with that. I’m _definitely_ okay with that.”

And he’s back to snoring in an instant, except this time Akaashi’s hand is clutched tightly in Bokuto’s own. Akaashi chose not to fight the equally stupid grin that rested on his lips and the soft red flush that sprinkled across his cheeks. He finally fell asleep to the sound of the rain against the window and the snoring of a familiar face next to him.

_You know, Bokuto-san, I like you a lot._

He found that he could get used to this.

 _It definitely had everything to do with the rain._ Akaashi concluded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one is different from the previous alternating perspectives! I hope that it’s not too difficult to understand and that you guys liked this one!  
> I found this one so fun to write HAHA! I’ll definitely be using this trope more in the future!  
> See you guys tmr!!


	5. long lines and lemons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto falls ill after lining up to buy Akaashi a limited edition t-shirt in the freezing rain. Akaashi realises his chicken noodle soup is poisonous (or very close to poisonous, anyway).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bokuaka Week - Day 7 - prompt: sick days/soulmates

It’s all for the ‘Angel Go Poke-Poke’ shirt.

Bokuto raises his eyes from scrolling on his phone to the windows, where the sky’s slowly growing significantly darker with each passing minute. The sunlight that’d welcomed him to the store is now gone, hiding delightfully like the traitor it is behind fat, grey clouds promising rain and a million other issues. He didn’t forget to check the weather report on his way out, noting silently to himself that it would rain at about 6 P.M. and that he should bring an umbrella.

He remembers _remembering_ it. He remembers _noting it down_. He remembers telling Akaashi, “ _Hey. I have a garbage immune system. Can you put an umbrella on the door handle so I won’t forget to bring it out later?_ ”

Yet he still forgets to _actually pick up said umbrella on the door handle and bringing the umbrella with him._

“Bokuto-san, you really are dense,” Akaashi’d sighed over the phone when Bokuto explained his little dilemma, awkwardly shuffling on his feet as he lines up amidst a hundred or so other avid fans. “Should I come and pick you up later?”

“No, no!” Akaashi was finishing up an illustration project long left overdue, the sole reason why Bokuto’s going outside for this little adventure (that has turned disastrous the second he stepped outside the door). Bokuto had volunteered when Akaashi brought it up, how there’s only going to be one pop-up for the rest of this year and how it’s going to be downtown, too far for Akaashi to go himself as it’d take too long to reach there, line up, and bring the merchandise home. Upon wondering if Bokuto had free time and if Bokuto would like to go in his place and get the shirt for him, Bokuto’d complied willingly.

Yet in no way did Bokuto ever think that the amount of Evangelion fans downtown could gather to be _this many._ There’s got to be at least three hundred people there, the storefront and the park packed densely with people. Bokuto’d gawked when he arrived half an hour early, seeing the many fans already there. He’s one of the first ones to arrive, yet is still waiting patiently in line at this ungodly hour as more people line up behind him.

_These people are such dedicated Evangelion fans that I’m actually impressed._

He glances at his watch. 5:42. He’s been here for about three hours, still moving slowly along with the rest of the fervent fans wanting their favourite merch this afternoon. Other people seem to have the same mindset as him as strangers talk to each other about the show, making new friends while others wait impatiently in odd spots in line.

“Which shirt are you hoping to buy?”

Bokuto turns around, grinning at the young kid standing behind him. The kid’s sporting an Evangelion shirt himself, eyes glowing excitedly as he points to the many designs on the walls. “Which one do you want?”

“Well, it’s not for me,” Bokuto explains, showing the kid an image on his phone. The kid’s eyes widen as he “ooh”s over the dark design, a screenshot over a white t-shirt. “It’s for my boyfriend. He’s a big Evangelion fan and has been wanting this shirt for as long as I can remember, anyway. I’m just lining up in his place”

“Isn’t it a little weird, though?” The kid asks, scrunching up his nose. “The joke on it is not funny. It’s a very cringey shirt with a line that makes no sense to the movie and has no contribution. Is your boyfriend a child? _Are you a pedophile?_ ”

 _Uh._ Bokuto’s unsure how to respond to a question like _that_ , and he’s pretty sure scolding a seven-year-old in the middle of a store is the last thing he should do (yet he wonders how the kid could do anything about _pedophiles_ ), so all he can manage is a cheery laugh as he shakes his head and turns back to the front of the line.

 _‘Is your boyfriend a child?_ ’ Bokuto snorts. _The child, if anything, is more of a child than_ Akaashi _will ever be, that ignorant, inhumane piece of_ child-

Only about eighty more people to go.

He gets the shirt, whooping and cheering when the staff hands the paper bag over. He’s never thanked someone so much in his entire life, his body bending over in bow after bow as the staff laughs nervously. The white shirt sitting comfortably in bag brings such a great joy to Bokuto’s eyes- here it is: the source of Akaashi’s longing for months, finally in his hands. His legs threaten to give out under him, a throbbing pain after standing so long in front of a kid who’s decided that offending Bokuto once isn’t enough because the kid had continued to talk to Bokuto about his ‘childish shirt’ and Bokuto is about to-

He runs outside, hugging the bag tightly to his chest as he exhales in relief.

_Man, I don’t need to worry about that anymore._

He receives confused and annoyed looks from the other hundreds of people still waiting by the door but he doesn’t care because he’s got the shirt, _he’s finally got it_ , and he can bring it home to Akaashi and they’d eat dinner together and he’d be happy-

The raindrop hits him square in the eye.

Gawking, Bokuto stops by the exit, watching in dismay as the rain gets heavier and heavier until it’s straight-up _pouring_ , water running down the street like a slide and flooding the sewers as interesting objects make their way down the road. Cars kick up waves of water on their way past, hitting unfortunate strangers in the legs and arms as people scowl in annoyance. Umbrellas are blown away in the rain as adults clutch tightly to bags and kids splash gleefully in their raincoats.

“The weather forecast predicts a thunderstorm this evening,” a stranger says as they stop beside Bokuto. She readjusts the paper bag on her arm and pulls out an umbrella before turning on her heel and leaving. “You should stop by the convenience store across the street if you don’t have an umbrella. The rain’s only going to get harder.”

Bokuto sighs, shaking his head. _Yeah, I know that._ “Thank you, I’ll do that.”

But he never gets to, because the next person to walk out of the convenience store is fuming, hands empty as he shields his eyes with his hands. The stranger bolts down the street, wincing as he’s drenched in an instant, his hands doing little to protect his vision from the blasting thunderstorm. Thunder crackles from above and the stranger jumps a little, shocked out of his skin. Bokuto grins in amusement.

Bokuto manages to make it to the bus stop without getting wet, walking right beside the rows of stores and taking cover underneath the large canopies spread out in the storefronts. Others seem to have the same idea as him as they huddle collectively outside of a watch shop, watching expectantly for the bus to pull into the stop.

The bus is filled with grumbling office workers in suits, kids in dripping raincoats, and teenagers with drenched backpacks. The bus moves slowly, groaning with every turn in the road as the rain pours down the windows, blurring the glass in water and making it difficult for Bokuto to determine where they are. He shoots a quick text to Akaashi that goes unread, the latter probably grinding weeks of worth in one go and not bothering to check his phone. Bokuto winces uneasily as the rain only pelts harder uptown in the college district, the street slowly becoming void of passerby as people rush home. The bus slowly rolls to his station, squawking and protesting loudly as it comes to a stop in the pouring rain.

Bokuto swallows the fear rising in his throat as he prepares to step off the bus. “I guess there’s only one thing I can do, now.”

He takes off sprinting down the street to the dorms.

“What the _fuck_ , Bokuto-“

“Let me spend the night here.” He drops his hands to his knees, breathing heavily as water drips down his back and out of his shirt and jeans and staining Kuroo and Kenma’s front door. “Akaashi’s really busy with a project and I think I should just let him be.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Kuroo’s frowning, pulling the door open wider as Bokuto steps in gratefully. Kenma peers from his spot on the couch.

“Go take a shower, Kou,” Kenma says, wrinkling his nose. “You’re _dripping_.”

“I forgot to bring an umbrella with me this morning.” Bokuto winces. “Akaashi even left it on the door.”

“Where were you going?”

He holds the paper bag up triumphantly. “To get Akaashi’s ‘Angel Go Poke-Poke’ shirt!”

Kuroo and Kenma gawk at the paper bag dangling from his fingers, still in perfect condition despite the water dripping out of Bokuto’s bag and his clothes. The shirt is unharmed, Bokuto pulling it out of the bag delightedly as he unfolds it and holds it out in front of him.

“Akaashi’s going to be so happy!”

-

Akaashi is not happy.

“He’s _sick_?” Akaashi snaps from the other end of the phone.

“No, no, not sick!” Kenma interrupts, kicking Kuroo in the ankles as Kenma shoots him a glare. “He just looked a little unwell when he stopped by but I’m sure it’s nothing. He’ll just spend the night here if it gets better. He’s in the shower right now.”

An exhausted sigh slips out of the speaker, Akaashi clicking his tongue as he shuffles around the apartment. “Give me a second. I’ll drop by with some of his stuff.”

Kenma glances out the window before refusing. “The rain is too heavy.”

“It’s fine-“

“Come by tomorrow morning,” Kenma interrupts. “Just try to get some work done tonight and get some rest. Bokuto’s probably going to be a headache to deal with, just so you know.”

Akaashi winces. “He’s only gotten sick with me once. He had a fever that one time that lasted for, what, a whole week?”

Kuroo grins. “When we were in middle school, he cut his finger and it got infected and he couldn’t write for a _month_ -“

“Come over tomorrow,” Kenma swings his feet at Kuroo’s shin. “You can bring his things.”

-

Bokuto’s throat is in blazing pain the next morning as he wakes up in a slow haze, throwing an arm over his eyes to shield himself from the sunlight streaming in. He groans, the heavy light illuminating his vision red. He’s finding it impossible to breathe, his nostrils _not working_ as he results to his using his mouth, his lips nastily and inevitably dry. His nose is stuffy, absolutely useless as of now and he breathes uncomfortably through his mouth. He opens his eyes groggily, taking in the two people sitting at their dining table. Someone’s typing away on a computer as another is hunched over a textbook.

Kuroo looks up first. The clacking stops. “Aha, Sleeping Beauty is awake!”

“How are you feeling?” Kenma asks, ignoring Kuroo’s comment. “I gave you some medication last night if you’ve forgotten. There’s some more on the table.”

“More?” Bokuto asks incredulously. “Didn’t I already take them last night?”

“It’s two in the afternoon,” Kenma deadpans.

Bokuto winces. “Ouch. Did someone tell Akaashi?”

Kuroo nods. “I called him last night. He sounds a little worried but he thanks you for getting the shirt. Oh, by the way, I dropped it off with him this morning. Akaashi also packed these.”

Kuroo flings an entire duffel bag of clothes, socks, and what appears to be the entirety of Bokuto’s bedroom at him. “Thank him for me later.”

Bokuto groans. “Why did you let him-“

“He told me you needed all of those-“

“He packed my pillow, too,” Bokuto observes.

“Good, because I want mine back.” Kuroo heads over to the couch and pulls out the pillow Bokuto’s leaning on. Bokuto yelps as his head hit the armrest. “How’s the nose-“

Bokuto sneezes, a Neanderthal-resembling sound escaping his throat and echoing in the small apartment. Kenma cringes.

Kuroo blinks. “I guess we have our answer.”

-

“Yo, Akaashi-“

“How is he?”

“He’s fine, don’t worry. He’s got a runny nose, he’s sneezing, sore throat- oh, yeah, he’s got a cough too-“

“ _What?!_ How is he fine? You should’ve told me earlier when I was trying to wake him up! I’ll come over right now, we can just head back-“

“No!” Kuroo cringes from just simply thinking about Akaashi’s endless fretting over Bokuto’s cold, even when Bokuto is safely shoved onto Kuroo’s couch and away from Akaashi’s prying fingers. Who knows how the other will be if Bokuto’s right there next to him. If he’s not dead right now, he’d probably die after experiencing the insane levels of Akaashi’s worrying. “Don’t worry, it’s not a bother at all! You have a lot of work to do and Bokuto would just be a inconvenience to you. You should prioritize getting it done and then we’ll bring him over. Besides, you packed enough in that bag for a week-“

“Kuroo-san, I can assure you it’s not a bother-“

“Same here,” Kuroo interrupts, even though he really would like Bokuto to be sleeping on Akaashi’s couch other than his own, but he’s a kind friend and someone has to make the sacrifice and it’s obviously got to be him because Bokuto chose _his_ apartment (“Curse you, Konoha,” Kuroo thinks). “It’s not a worry, okay? Go get your stuff done!”

Akaashi sighs heavily on the other end of the line, clearly knowing he’d lost and is admitting defeat. He’s quiet for a few seconds, thinking things through before saying, “Alright. Thank you, Kuroo-san.”

“Not a problem!” Kuroo grins. “After all, I’m always this kind.”

Akaashi snorts. Kuroo’s grin drops.

-

Komi’s front door slams open unexpectedly at 12:53 in the morning. The guy yelps, nearly dropping his mug of hot tea on his toes, before turning angrily to the front door, the culprit hidden conveniently behind his kitchen doorway.

“Konoha, get the bat!” He shouts at the top of his lungs as the blond scurries out of his room, metal baseball bat already in one hand and a flashlight in the other (presumably to shine in the thief’s eyes, though Komi has to constantly remind him why that _doesn’t_ work). Konoha’s trembling visibly, his face a nasty pale shade as he swallows the fear lodging uncomfortably in his throat. He makes his way to the front door in a painstakingly slow manner, never taking his eyes off the door.

Komi’s ready to chuck his tea, IKEA mug and all, at the burglar when a startlingly familiar voice screams, “Teach me how to make chicken noodle soup, Komi!”

Komi freezes, tea in hand, as Konoha lowers the bat and exclaims, “What the hell, Akaashi! You scared me. It’s a Tuesday-“

“Bokuto’s very sick.” Akaashi is in view now, shaking off the raindrops of his umbrella in the hallway and toeing off his shoes (“Don’t do that,” Komi constantly whines, “it’ll ruin the heels!”). “He caught a cold and he’s with Kuroo right now so he’s fine, but I need to learn how to make chicken noodle soup.”

“I buy Campbell’s-“ Konoha starts, but Komi is already walking towards Akaashi, taking his bag from him as he welcomes him in.

“Bokuto deserves better than Campbell’s, Konoha,” Komi says, earning a loud whine of protest in response. “I’ll teach you right now.”

“Right now?!” Konoha gawks.

“We have everything,” Komi shrugs. “I’m also a little hungry.”

“Thank you, Komi-san!” Akaashi bows deeply. Konoha’s catching flies in the living room.

“Keiji?”

Akaashi looks up from the pot of boiling water, meeting Konoha’s amused gaze. “Yes, Konoha-san?”

“You know you don’t have to watch the pot that intensely, right? It’ll bubble when it’s boiling and you’ll probably hear it.”

“O-oh, right,” Akaashi stutters awkwardly, glancing over to see if Komi’s noticed. He hasn’t. The other guy is chopping some sort of vegetable on a cutting board at an alarming speed, the knife whizzing in front of Akaashi’s eyes as he makes his way down the long vegetable. Akaashi makes a mental note not to anger Komi.

“What’s with the sudden urge to make chicken noodle soup? At 1 in the morning, too?” Konoha continues, peering at the pot. “You could’ve stopped by in the afternoon!”

Akaashi stares down at his fingers, fiddling them absentmindedly. “Bokuto’s sick.”

“But Kuroo has medication, right?” Konoha frowns. “He should be okay by tomorrow.”

“He’s been at Kuroo-san’s house for two days now.” Akaashi bites his lip as a dull thud in his head greets his heartbeat. “I heard that he’s got a pretty bad immune system as well, so it’s probably going to take a little longer. When he comes back, I just want to do something nice for him.”

“By cooking chicken noodle soup?” Konoha’s voice is a bit gentler now, his eyes softening in understanding. He hums as he turns back to the pot, checking the water level.

“By cooking.” Akaashi nods.

The gentleness in Konoha’s expression is gone, a confused stare quickly changing his features as he whizzes back around. “Wait... do you not cook between the two of you?”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m wondering, too.” Komi pipes up from the countertop. “Why would chef Akaashi need to come to us of all people for the recipe to chicken noodle soup?”

“It’s because I don’t cook,” Akaashi explains.

It throws the two of them off guard. Konoha gawks as the knife Komi’s using suddenly freezes.

“Wait, wait, _Bokuto_ cooks?!” Komi’s in disbelief despite the calm and nonchalant and _very innocently confused_ expression Akaashi’s wearing. “No way. No way.”

“Yeah, he does,” Akaashi admits. “I’m… very inadequate with it comes to culinary arts. It’s more of his thing, so he does it between the two of us.”

“No way, is it even edible?” Konoha’s in denial. He’s not watching the pot anymore, instead turning and giving his full attention to Akaashi. He leans against the counter with his hip, arms crossed as he tilts his head. “Nah, you must be joking-“

“No, seriously. Why else would I ask you guys to teach me how to make chicken noodle soup?”

“I mean, it could just be something you don’t know how to cook? I didn’t think-“

“I really can’t cook, Konoha-san. I-ow!“ Akaashi jumps back as water sloshes out of the metal pot, spilling over the edge and hissing where it meets the induction stove. “Oh, is it boiling now-“

“KONOHA, YOU DINGUS! WATCH THE FUCKING POT!”

“YOU SHOULD’VE NOTICED IT TOO, KOMI-“

“Oh, my phone’s ringing!”

“I TOLD _YOU_ TO MAN THE STOVE-“

“ _I_ WAS TALKING TO AKAASHI! WHAT WERE YOU DOING, HUH? DAYDREAMING? LETTING THE CELERY CHOP ITSELF? ZONING OUT-“

“Hello?”

“Please pick him up!” Kuroo booms over the speaker, interrupting the two squabbling seniors. “Please. Please. He misses you. He won’t stop complaining. I’m going insane. Please come pick him up.”

-

“Akaashi!” Bokuto shouts, immediately gathering all his bags in his arms as he waves excitedly at the figure at the door. He’s so excited that he accidentally inhales too much air in one go, oxygen going down the wrong pipe as he chokes on absolutely _nothing_ , hacking away in a cough as Kuroo, Kenma, and Akaashi stare in horror at the crumbling boy on the carpet. “Akaashi, gah, ahem, I missed you!”

“Okay, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says, walking into the apartment and helping Bokuto with the duffel. He pats Bokuto on the back, wincing as Bokuto makes a sound similar to a child coughing for the first time. Akaashi throws the duffel over his shoulder as Bokuto rummages around the living room for his bag. “Let’s get going.”

He bows to Kuroo and Kenma, thanking them for letting Bokuto stay as they wave their hands dismissively. Akaashi grabs Bokuto’s arm and they shut the door behind them, starting slowly back to their dorm. Bokuto clears his throat as he catches his breath, exhaling in relief when no more coughs can be produced.

Bokuto hums, grinning when he notices the white shirt Akaashi’s wearing. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Akaashi rolls his eyes. “I’ve already thanked you multiple times, Bokuto-san.”

“It looks good on you.”

“You say that about _everything_ I wear.”

Bokuto shrugs. “It’s true.”

Akaashi glances down at his ‘Angel Go Poke-Poke’ shirt, sighing as a fond smile replaces the previous exasperated expression. “You are so full of compliments, Bokuto. I don’t know how you don’t manage to run out.”

“It’s not that I’m full of compliments, Akaashi,” Bokuto starts, “I’m just stating the obvi-“

He sneezes so loudly the hallway echoes, his atrocious and horrific ’gWAEH’ vibrating through the enclosed space. Akaashi’s ears are ringing. Kuroo opens his door and shouts, “Walk faster, you ill bastard!”

“I’m sorry,” Akaashi mutters as they turn the corner to the elevators. “I didn’t see any of your texts. I should’ve been there to pick you up.”

“Gah, it’s not your fault!” Bokuto waves his hands wildly as Akaashi stares emptily at the elevator buttons. “I should’ve brought the umbrella with me. I don’t blame you for anything, Akaashi! I’m just glad you’ve managed to survive for the past two days without me.”

Akaashi snorts, a small smirk lifting up the corners of his lips. “I’m not pathetically inadequate, Bokuto-san.”

“Did you cook dinner or did you order in?” Bokuto asks, leaning against the wall as Akaashi presses the elevator buttons impatiently. “I completely forgot to ask!”

“I cooked dinner by myself.” Akaashi doesn’t meet Bokuto’s eyes.

“Ooh! Was it good?”

“I guess so, yeah.”

“Will you cook for me sometime?” Bokuto asks excitedly, pushing himself off the wall and stopping uncomfortably close to Akaashi. “Will you? Will you?”

“Um, sure.”

“What did you cook?”

“…instant ramen.”

Bokuto screams.

-

Bokuto spends the rest of the day on the couch, typing up lab reports on his laptop while making his way through a giant pail of mixed nuts. Akaashi wrinkles his nose as he sits down beside Bokuto with a book in hand, peering over the pail to see the assortment of nuts.

“Don’t eat so many nuts when you’re coughing, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi warns as Bokuto sneezes.

“I’m not coughing that badly,” Bokuto reassures him, cracking open a sunflower seed. “I’ll be fine in no time! You just wait and see!”

Akaashi frowns. “I’m ordering pizza for tonight.”

“Ooh! Can we get-“

“You’re not eating the pizza.”

Bokuto gawks, sunflower seed in hand. “What do you mean-“

“I’m going to order the rice for you,” Akaashi says, scrolling through the menu on his phone. “You’re not allowed to eat greasy things. It’s bad for you.”

“What do _you_ know, Mr. Instant Noodles?”

“I’ve been taking care of carnivorous plants for as long as I can remember, Mr. I-Must-Feed-My-Flytrap-Corn.”

“Are you comparing me to a _flytrap_ , Akaashi?! Even while I’m here sick and dying, frail and in so much _misery-_ ”

“Well, both of you eat meat-“

“Mr. Pickles ate the spinach I gave him, you know.” Bokuto replies stubbornly.

_Uh oh._

Akaashi freezes, mouth still open and body rigid with horror before shouting in clear distress, “THEY EAT EVERYTHING YOU FEED THEM, BOKUTO-SAN!”

-

Bokuto decides that he’s eaten one too many nuts the previous day because he wakes up in the morning with a horrible, horrible cough. A brief glance at his phone tells him that it’s 8 in the morning and Akaashi’s already long gone, probably in the middle of a lecture right now.

Akaashi had stayed up last night typing emails to Bokuto’s professors while Bokuto dozed off on his bed, trying to stay awake but failing when he rested his head against Akaashi’s shoulder. The other stayed up long past his bedtime, replying to emails and sorting through Bokuto’s work to help him get settled for the next day. Bokuto remembers reminding himself to thank Akaashi before he drifted off into a good slumber.

That is, a good slumber interrupted by his throat deciding that now’s the best time to bark to the Bee Gees’ ‘ _Stayin’ Alive_ ’.

He’s hacking into the air as his head spins with a terrible headache and he briefly reminds himself not to eat half a pail of nuts while he’s sick ( _or not to eat half a pail of nuts in general_ ) before Akaashi’s crashing into his room, a mug in one hand while holding half a dozen or so boxes in the other. Bokuto wheezes in surprise, eyes widening as Akaashi hurries over to Bokuto’s desk, setting the mug down as Akaashi flips through the medicine.

“Coughs… headache… stuffy nose…” Akaashi recites, opening a box and popping out two tablets. He sets them on a piece of tissue before looking through more boxes, his hands frantic as he scans expiry dates and dosage recommendations.

“Akaashi…?”

“Bokuto-san, please sit up.” Akaashi turns to him immediately, placing a gentle hand on his elbow as he guides Bokuto upwards. Bokuto watches as Akaashi frets over the medicine before finally pushing the tissue over and handing Bokuto the mug. “Here. Take these. This is just warm water. It’ll help you feel better in no time. I’m looking at the other ones and maybe-”

“Why,” Bokuto starts before another cough interrupts him. He tries again. “Why are… you here?”

“I took the day off,” Akaashi says dismissively, clicking his tongue as Bokuto stares at him. “What? Hey, hey, take the medicine!”

“Akaashi!” Bokuto’s eyes start to water as the other hands him the mug. Akaashi’s eyebrows lift high into his hairline as he notices the tears gathering in Bokuto’s eyes, a frantic expression taking over his nonchalant expression as he moves his thumb to wipe away the tears, still holding onto the mug.

“Why are you crying, you dingus?” Akaashi asks, his soft tone clashing with the very mean slur that Bokuto’s pretty sure Akaashi learned from Komi.

“Akaashi stayed… to take care of me,” Bokuto’s crying now, _he’s seriously crying_ , and he can’t stop the waterfall of tears cascading down his cheeks as he wheezes and sobs. Akaashi looks equally concerned and disturbed, placing the mug down on the table as he grabs tissues to wipe off the tears.

“Stop crying, sheesh!” Akaashi laughs. “Of course I’m going to be here to take care of you. Who knows if you’ll eat the remaining half of the nuts while I’m away? Or, worse, what if you feed them to Mr. Pickles?”

“I’ve… already fed… Mr. Pickles a cashew,” Bokuto confesses, reaching up and wiping his tears with his blanket.

Akaashi stares. “Tell me you’re joking.”

Bokuto shakes his head.

“Bokuto-san, I-,” Akaashi stutters, now looking downright terrified and disappointed. “How- how is your plant alive? How do you still have traps? I- you shouldn’t be feeding them random _things_ , Bokuto-san-“

Bokuto reaches over and, albeit the struggling and hacking, swallows the pills and downs the water. Akaashi’s still rambling, now holding his head in his hands as he stares at the poor flytrap on Bokuto’s windowsill.

Bokuto sneezes.

Akaashi takes Mr. Pickles out of the bedroom.

“How’s the homework coming along?” Akaashi asks, sitting down next to Bokuto on the bed.

“Pretty good!” Bokuto stretches his arms above his head. “Not too difficult when we got to the labs, so all will be fine.”

Bokuto leans away, shaking his head. “You’re going to get sick if you spend so much time with me, Akaashi.”

“I’m stronger than you,” Akaashi shrugs, leaning his head against Bokuto’s shoulder as he opens his laptop. His fingers clack as he enters his password, immediately turning to opening up his design documents. “Your immune system is laughable.”

“Excuse me, I’m very much alive-“

“See, you’re just like your flytrap.” Akaashi continues. “No matter how awful the situation or how unlikely it is that you’d survive, you always pull through. It’s kind of creepy.”

He looks up and meets Bokuto’s gaze, grinning at the red blush that gathers on Bokuto’s cheeks. “You’re in luck that I’m a florist. It means that I can take care of you forever.”

He taps Bokuto on the nose with his finger. “We’re soulmates, don’t you think?”

Bokuto feels like he’s about to combust and it has nothing to do with the coughing or the stuffy nose.

-

Bokuto soon learns exactly why Akaashi doesn’t cook.

He’s trying to sleep, dozing off between fits of coughing and sneezing when he smells something funny drift into the room.

He can’t quite place his finger on it. Is that celery? Or is it parsley? Or is it some weird combination of both? Either way, it smells _interesting_ , it smells _odd_ , and Bokuto already knows that it probably smells wrong.

 _That’s why Akaashi sticks with instant noodles_ , Bokuto thinks.

He tries to get up but his head is just straight-up not allowing that. The dull thud is like a banging snare drum bouncing around in the empty void that is, sadly, his head, and even his pea-sized brain determines that it’s better to just lie down and let himself feel better.

So he does just that, falling asleep to the wicked smell of a celery-parsley hybrid in his nostrils.

When he wakes up, Akaashi’s sitting beside him, typing away on his laptop. He notices Bokuto stir, shoots him a soft side,before reaching over, holding a bowl.

 _Food,_ Bokuto thinks, his stomach grumbling appreciatively. “Ah, is this for me?”

“Yeah. I followed a recipe I got so I’m not too sure if it’s up to par, but I just wanted to do something for you.” Akaashi admits sheepishly.

Bokuto grins. “Thank you, Akaashi!”

He takes the bowl from him and nearly drops it with horror when he notices a funky green-tinted liquid staring back at him. The liquid is thick as it sloshes unhappily in his bowl and he’s considering the fact that Akaashi might be trying to poison him, but he’s too hungry to care about that as of right now. He shuts his eyes, takes a deep breath, and shoves a spoonful into his mouth.

A remark Bokuto often gets is that he wears his heart out on his sleeve, publicly showcasing every emotion he feels at every second for the world to see. He takes pride in it, how people never misunderstand him and how he’s genuinely easy to understand and relate to.

However, he curses that remark right now as he, to his own horror and guilt, wrinkles his nose and tries not to choke. The soup is _sour_ , extremely sour, and there are weird chunks of something solid and inedible floating around. The noodles almost crumble in his mouth and he’s certain that the Akaashi did not mince the garlic clove, but he pushes all that aside as he swallows.

It doesn’t take a genius to realize that Akaashi made chicken noodle soup for him, but it did take a genius to realize that the same concoction Bokuto currently holds in his hands may just be Akaashi’s Infamous (Poisonous) Chicken Noodle Soup.

 _This may be slightly counterproductive_ , he thinks guiltily to himself.

Akaashi’s eyes widen in horror. “Oh, oh no, I knew I messed up somewhere-“

“No, no!” Bokuto shakes his head. “It’s just really hot, that’s all. It tastes good! I love it!”

Akaashi doesn’t buy it. “Okay, give that back to me, I’m going to call Komi over-“

“No!” Bokuto says before shoving another spoonful into his mouth. “It’s good!”

Akaashi watches in pure, unbridled concern as Bokuto shuts his eyes and _finishes the entire bowl_ , setting it down on the table contentedly as he snuggles back into his blankets. He tries to ignore the uneasy stirring in his stomach as his liver decides to brew a storm, sending him to an inevitable fate. Akaashi’s stock still beside him, body rigidly frozen as he tries to register what on Earth Bokuto’d just done.

“Please tell me you’re okay, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi finally says. He’s shaking.

Bokuto smiles. “Of course!”

He guiltily throws up in the toilet twenty minutes later, Akaashi crying frantically to Komi over the phone as Konoha wheezes in the background for all the wrong reasons.

-

“Yo, yo, Keiji, what’s good? How’s Bokuto-“

“Kuroo, Kuroo!”

“Whoa, dude, Akaashi, you good?”

“No! I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it’d be that bad. I just followed the recipe from Komi that I’d written, but I probably miswrote some things and now he’s just worse-“

“What happened?”

“I made chicken noodle soup for Bokuto.”

“…and?”

“He threw it up! He’s apologizing right now but I know it’s my fault! Agh, my soup is poisonous! I should’ve known! I should’ve just let Komi make it for him! I just wanted to do something nice, you know, but-”

From the other end of the call, Kuroo presses ‘mute’ to hide his manic cackle.

-

“I’ve been thinking, Akaashi…”: Bokuto starts one day, holding a tissue to his nose. Akaashi hums in response.

The stuffy nose days are over and Bokuto’s feeling much better, the only thing to worry about being the coughing and the sore throats. Akaashi’s been pointedly avoiding making full meals, ordering in most of the times save the once or twice he’s made some sort of noodles with hot water and soy sauce. He threw in a few eggs in there, too, and even though Bokuto reassures Akaashi that he can cook just fine, the other is as stubborn as always.

He’s stubborn even now, sifting through the medicine they kept in their cabinets as he chucks expired boxes into the bin and organises the medication based on sickness.

“You really don’t have to take such good care of me,” Bokuto says, blowing his nose loudly. Akaashi jumps at the honk.

“I’m not taking really good care of you.” Akaashi says, shutting the cabinets and moving over to the kettle. He runs it under the tap as he prepares water to boil. “I’m not doing that great of a job. I can’t really cook, so all I’m doing is finding healthier options for us while you get better. It’s just the bare minimum, really.”

“No, no,” Bokuto shakes his head. “I’m talking about how you took three days off just to be with me.”

Akaashi pauses from his position at the sink. “Well, someone has to take care of you, right?”

Bokuto laughs. “What I’m saying is that you should really stop doing things for me and, rather, do them for you. This means going back to class and spending more of your free time working on your projects instead of fretting over me. I’m taking up too much of your time and I feel bad about it.”

“I do spend my free time working on my projects,” Akaashi shrugs, setting the kettle to a boil as he rummages on a cabinet. He pulls out a white mug. “And you shouldn’t feel bad about this sort of thing. You’re sick and as your boyfriend I should be taking care of you, not letting you inhale half a pail of nuts when you’re coughing and letting you feed Mr. Pickles your weird arrangement of delicacies.”

Bokuto sighs. “I just feel a little guilty, that’s all. I’m feeling like a liability, you know?”

Akaashi reaches over and taps Bokuto on the nose affectionately, shaking his head. “You’re not a liability, ever. You’re sick right now and that’s all there is to it.”

He hums as he backs away, opening the fridge and bending down to search for something. His eyes brighten when he locates it and he pulls out a single lemon.

“Have you ever had warm lemon tea?” Akaashi asks, heading back to the counter to pull out a cutting board. Bokuto shakes his head, immediately interested at the drink Akaashi’s preparing.

He cuts the lemon more skillfully than anyone at his culinary level could be. Akaashi makes bold, confident cuts, taking two lemon pieces and setting them aside. He inspects the layers carefully before turning around and smiling at Bokuto.

Even after knowing Akaashi for so long, his smile still takes his breath away.

“Don’t waste too much time on me,” Bokuto says.

Akaashi smiles. “I can’t do that, Bokuto-san.”

“Why not?”

Akaashi takes the two lemon slices and, along with a packet of black tea, places them into the mug. He pours the hot water in, watching the tea brew into a dark brown colour before taking the tea bag out and spooning a bit of honey inside. He does this in silence, thinking quietly to himself before picking up the drink and handing it to Bokuto.

“It’s because I care about you,” Akaashi says. “I care about you a lot. I want to see you get better faster because I know you won’t take the time and effort to rest well. You tire yourself out really easily, so I’m here to keep you grounded and safe.”

Bokuto accepts the drink gratefully, warming his hands around the mug. The smell of the tea is something different, something Bokuto’s never smelt before, and he finds that he likes it a lot.

Akaashi smiles, cleaning up the counter. “By the way, you can drink it. I promise you it’s not poisonous. I’ve been making these for my relatives for as long as I can remember, anyway. Totally a magical remedy.”

Bokuto sets the mug down and pulls Akaashi in for a hug, the latter protesting that he has homework to complete. Bokuto lets go reluctantly.

Later, he takes a sip of the lemon tea from the owl mug. He decides that it’s his new favourite drink.

-

On his fifth day of staying at home, Bokuto wakes up that morning to find that his throat is betraying him yet again.

Akashi hears hin gagging and struggling to speak and immediately brings hot water and medication into the room, waiting as Bokuto downs both the pills. Akaashi nods contentedly once Bokuto’s done, packing up the medication on the table. He starts to leave, taking the mug with him, before being stopped by Bokuto’s voice from somewhere behind him.

“Akaashi,” Bokuto speaks up, his throat _seriously dying and in so much pain_ (seriously. He’s starting to feel like damn firecrackers exploded in his throat). Akaashi freezes in the doorway, immediately turning around and hurrying back to Bokuto’s side. His eyes are wide as he squats down to Bokuto’s eye level, reaching out and grabbing Bokuto’s hand earnestly.

“Yeah, what is it?” Akaashi asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Do you…” Bokuto starts, trailing off as a cough breaks through his body. His eyes widen as he turns his head to avoid hacking right at Akaashi, who Bokuto has noticed has tightened his grip on Bokuto’s hand.

“Okay, stop talking,” Akaashi rolls his eyes when Bokuto turns back expectantly. “You can tell me this later. Or text me. Something. Get some rest.”

“No,” Bokuto says stubbornly. “Listen to me.”

Akaashi clicks his tongue. “You need to sleep. You’re not feeling well-“

“Soulmates,” Bokuto chokes out, surprising both himself and Akaashi with his straightforwardness. Akaashi gasps at the single word that holds so much affection behind it. “Tell me… do you think we’re soulmates?”

“What’s this all of a sudden?” Akaashi says, amused. “Soulmates?”

“Yeah,” Bokuto nods. “I think of it a lot. You and me… I feel like we are, you know?”

Akaashi smiles, hand in his heads as he sits down in front of Bokuto. “You’re not wrong. I think so, too.”

“Why do _you_ think so?”

“We fit each other so well,” Akaashi explains, not even hesitating to think about it. “You’re boisterous and I keep you grounded. I help take care of you in the same ways you take care of me. We amplify each other’s strong points and build each other’s weaknesses together. It’s like the universe planned for us to meet, you know? I don’t think I can find anyone else like you so, I think we’re soulmates.”

Bokuto doesn’t fight the wide grin on his face. “I think we are, too.”

“Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“I’m already feeling better.”

 _What a liar_ , Akaashi thinks as thumps the upperclassman on the head. “No more nuts for you.”

“I fed Mr. Pickles a pistachio.”

-

Akaashi makes sure to take extra good care of Mr. Pickles from then on out. A few traps have sadly shrivelled up, all due to Bokuto feeding it random vegetables and _things_ and it’s sad for Akaashi to be unable to watch them grow, knowing that most of the larger traps have been destroyed by Bokuto’s incessant thoughts and opinions and making space for the small ones that are sprouting above.

As Akaashi waters Mr. Pickles, he finds that he can be hopeful about the future because he’s found the one he’s been looking for, his soulmate, even though the person is much stronger and taller than him and makes dumb, irrational choices that he always has to clean up, and he’s excited to go from there. He’s excited to come home to someone in the evenings, someone he calls ‘home’, and someone he loves wholeheartedly.

In a few days, Bokuto gets better, his throat healing up and finally going back to normal. He’s boisterous and booming again, again seeking for Akaashi’s attention and opinions and doing everything Akaashi asks and more. He teaches Akaashi how to cook in return for his lemon tea recipe and Bokuto even catches himself making it during the mornings in replacement for the coffee.

He also feeds Mr. Pickles a piece of lemon, which the plant munches happily.

He doesn’t tell Akaashi.

It’s better if he doesn’t know, Bokuto decides.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my dear friend @/chenscloud is responsible for the 'Angel Go Poke-Poke' shirt after she made a meme out of a scene from Evangelion 0-0 regardless, she's working on a story right now! go check it out!  
> AH, this chapter was so difficult to write because it kept turning out much angstier than I had planned! Hopefully it's fluffy enough and uplifting enough to not be counted as "that sad chapter"  
> See you guys tomorrow!! 2 chapters left oop oop


	6. letters and lightsabers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi gets a confession from a secret admirer. Bokuto snoops around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bokuaka Week - Day 8 - prompt: secret admirer

Akaashi has never been in a situation quite as _fucking_ _stupid_ as this one.

It starts with a flustered junior running up to him on his first day back after winter break during his senior year, a thick scarf wrapped around his neck as he stutters out what appears to have been a well-rehearsed sentence.

“A-Akaashi Keiji,” he starts, much louder than he intended to, clearing his throat twice as he physically shakes.

Akaashi stares. “Yes, that’s me.”

“My friend wants to give you this.” The junior all but shoves the confession at him, stabbing Akaashi in the chest with the thick envelope. Akaashi’s eyes widen as he takes the letter from his trembling hands, admiring the neat decorations on the front and his name written in well-practiced calligraphy. The junior doesn’t stop yelling. “He’s l-liked you for a, uh, a long time but he’s too shy to say anything so, um, he wishes that you re-reciprocate his feelings, yeah, and that, um, he’s linked his phone number at the bottom so you can message him ifyouwantIdon’tknowIdon’tknowwhyhe’saskingmetogivethistoyouokaybye-“

He dashes off, screaming something incoherent as he darts into the science building under the concerned stares of the other students in the courtyard. Some even shoot Akaashi a confused stare, some muttering ‘Prez is so scary’ underneath their breaths.

That’s not the worst part, though.

The worst part is that the person who’s standing outside of the building _the very second_ the junior bolts in, the person who’s clearly heard every single word the junior spoke, is none other than college graduate Bokuto Koutarou, also known as That Freshman Who Blew Up the Chemistry Labs and The Physical Chemistry Course’s Newest TA.

Also known as Akaashi’s boyfriend.

Who, standing timidly with wide eyes and a pouting lip, looks like he’s about to cry.

_Dear Akaashi,_

_I don’t want to reveal my name quite yet in case this all goes downhill and you never actually get this letter. I’ve heard that you recently moved out of campus to the apartments outside of the college district so I had to find alternatives to deliver this letter to you (I was just going to slide this under your door, but that won’t work now). I’m writing to you in the hopes that you’ve had a great winter break and that you’re happy and healthy._

_This is a confession. I’ve liked you since we were freshmen but you’ve always seemed to be out of my league. You’re amazing at everything you do and I admire your work ethic, your determination, and your perseverance. I like you in more than simply a crush-sort of way and instead, I value every moment we spend together because I feel like I get to know you better. I treasure the time we spend together in class and the way you always help me along without hesitance. You’re genuinely an amazing person and I’m so proud to call you my friend. You’re a talented, hard worker and I’m sure that if you want to take our relationship to the next level, it will work out perfectly._

_Hope the first day back hasn’t been too hard on us. We_ are _graduating in a few months._

_Don’t hesitate to message me. I look forward to hearing your response!_

_xxx-xxxx-xxx_

Akaashi has never quite read such bullshit in his entire life.

Bokuto’s crying in the background. Komi looks livid. Kuroo’s looking very interested in the paper material of the letter. Konoha’s fingers are itching to tweet about it.

This whole situation is so _fucking stupid._

-

“Bokuto-san.”

“No! Don’t talk to me!”

“Bokuto-san, please,”

“You’re going to leave me! I don’t want to be here when that happens!”

Akaashi’s just told Bokuto about the confession, watching as the other crumbles to the floor in pure agony and distress. He holds his head his hands, chanting Akaashi’s name in fear before standing up, completely fine, and sitting down in front of a wall. The graduate turns to face the blank plaster with a _hmph_ , crossing his arms over his chest as he heaves out sobs. Akaashi’s eye twitches.

“Bokuto-san, I’m not going to leave you. Please calm down. We can just ignore this letter and pretends it doesn’t exist-“

“We cannot!” Bokuto screeches. “We cannot do that! Someone’s out to take you from me and if I don’t do something about it you’re going to disappear!”

Komi clears his throat. “Bo, you can rest assured that Akaashi’s not going to do something like that. You’ve known the guy for, what, four years? You should know better than that. Besides, we don’t even know who this mystery person is. It could just be a sick joke from Kuroo, after all.”

“Don’t look at me!” Kuroo barks, pointing a finger at Konoha’s direction. “I’m just as eternally clueless as he is!”

Konoha scowls. “I am _not_ clueless. I am a TA-“

“You hate your job, you fucking liar-“

“You’re overreacting, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi interrupts, the other boys chiming in agreement.

“Are you sure, Akaashi?” Bokuto sniffs.

“Yeah, defini-“

The doorbell rings. Akaashi freezes. Bokuto looks traumatized.

_What is this-_

Konoha stands up to open the door, peeking out to greet the stranger. “Hello-“

The stranger squawks when he sees Konoha at the door. Konoha arches an eyebrow.

“For Akaashi-san,” the same junior from that morning extends a letter, after catching his breath and nearly fainting at the sight of Konoha’s face (Konoha’s expecting insults from the other four later). This time, there’s a box of chocolates attached to the envelope, a small pink box tied neatly with white ribbon. The junior doesn’t seem to notice the sobbing college graduate sitting on the couch behind Konoha (or, if he does, he does a good job ignoring it), ugly crying into Komi’s shoulder.Instead, the junior looks downright terrified of Konoha, shaking in his shoes as Konoha takes the chocolates from him. “He sends his best regards.”

He runs away immediately, screaming in his wake.

“College kids,” Konoha says after a long, awkward pause, inwardly wondering what about him could possibly be so terrifying.

Bokuto wails.

-

Akaashi hunts the junior down next Monday. It takes a while, Akaashi struggling to describe the junior’s face to the other underclassmen in the dormitory as they stare at him in bewilderment. After long pauses and awkward descriptions, Akaashi finally gets the answers he desires and heads back to the art building, this time turning to stop at the 3D arts wing.

He freezes when he gets to the floor, just realising that he’s uncertain about what he plans to say to the other person. _Hello? Nice to meet you? I’m sorry that I’m completely infatuated with someone else and will never return your friend’s feelings so you don’t have to give me any more things-_

He blinks before stepping confidently into the hallway. Now’s not the time to overthink these things- he’ll just take the conversation as it is. He scans the premise for any signs of the fumbling kid he’s been so used to seeing before spotting him inside a classroom, sculpting a bust out of marble.

Akaashi notices that the bust is extremely realistic and _extremely good_ , so he stands behind him, watching him in awe.

That is, until the junior takes a swig of water, notices him there, and lets out a piercing scream.

 _Oh, God. Doesn’t_ that _remind me of someone I know-_

“Akaashi-san!” He yelps, fumbling with the water bottle in hand. “Uh, hi! What’s good?”  
“Oh, I was just looking for you,” Akaashi replies. “I don’t actually know your name…”

“Inuoka! It’s nice to meet you! What are you doing here?”

“Inuoka-san,” Akaashi addresses him and walks over slowly, ignoring the way Inuoka’s eyes were still as wide as saucers. “I came to return this.”

He pulls out the chocolates from his bag, readjusting the strap over his shoulder. Inuoka’s brows furrow, slowly taking the chocolates from Akaashi’s outstretched hands with confusion and hesitance. “But these are for you.”

“I know, but I can’t accept them. I have a boyfriend.”

“Ah, that’s what I told him!” Inuoka suddenly looks relieved, exhaling loudly as he places the chocolates on a table beside him. His face lights up in an instant, a grin settling on his features. “I told him that you’re dating someone already and that he stood no chance. Man, if only he’d listened!”

“You know?” Akaashi asks, surprised,

Inuoka nods. “Yeah, you guys spend time with each other a lot even though I don’t really see you guys at school. He’s just too dumb to believe it.”

“I guess it’s all cleared up, now,” Akaashi says, laughing awkwardly. “Again, I’m really sorry about returning the gift. It’s very disrespectful of me. I just can’t accept it, that’s all.”

“That’s okay!” Inuoka grins cheerily. “Man, I’m so relieved to hear that! Now I don’t have to keep delivering these useless gifts to you! I’ve been telling him to move on but he’s just so stubborn.”

“He can’t be as stubborn as the person I’m dating, anyway,” Akaashi says, immediately recalling the many times he’s seen Bokuto sneaking out into the living room at two in the morning trying to feed nuts to Mr. Pickles. “I’m really not sure how he thinks being a science teacher is a good idea. When he told me he was a TA, I seriously thought he was finally losing it.”

“He’s a TA?” Inuoka perks up. “I didn’t know that!”

“Yeah! Graduated from the science department with a major in physical chemistry. Though, I don’t think he’s good with kids at all,”

“Huh? What makes you think that?”

Akaashi shakes his head. “He’s a bit much sometimes.”

“Ah, I see, I know, I know!” Inuoka nods frantically. “He’s always yelling in the hallways. One complaint after the other. Sometimes I feel like he’s constantly frustrated!”

Akaashi briefly wonders how Inuoka could possibly know it’s Bokuto he’s talking about before shaking it off and saying, “I don’t think ‘frustrated’ is the right word. More like ecstatic.”

“Yeah, yeah!” Inuoka chimes in. “I hope he doesn’t scare the kids too much!”

“I won’t be surprised if he does,” Akaashi mutters, thinking about Bokuto’s wild black and white hair always styled upwards. “Well! I’m glad we got it cleared up. Tell him that I’m not interested, will you?”

“Yep, yep! See ya, Akaashi-san!”

“Bye!”

Akaashi walks out of the arts wing feeling much more relieved than he has for the past weekend.

-

Bokuto’s not feeling the same way.

“Bokuto, are you okay?” Akaashi asks after Bokuto whacks his toe against the table for the fifth time in the past hour. “You seem extremely distracted.”

“I’m okay! Definitely okay! More than okay!” Bokuto yelps, hopping on one foot as he tries to manoeuvre to the kitchen. “Don’t need to worry about me! I’m definitely okay!”

“Bokuto-san, please-“

“I’m totally not thinking about the person who wrote you that really sweet letter, nope, not at all!” Bokuto continues. “Totally not jealous and sad right now! Totally not overthinking it!”

Akaashi sighs. “This again, Bokuto-san?”  
“Akaashi, I am completely, totally fine-“

“Bokuto-san, I visited Inuoka earlier today and gave the chocolates back to him. I told him that I’m not interested-“

“So it’s Inuoka?” Bokuto whizzes around, eyes ablaze with shock. “Who is Inuoka? What is Inuoka? How- _Inuoka-_ “

“No! No, it’s not Inuoka!” Akaashi stands up and quickly walks over to where Bokuto is crouching on the floor, mumbling Inuoka’s name over and over. “I still don’t know who it is and I’d like to keep it that way. This way, I won’t be awkward around them and I can just pretend nothing happened!”

“It’s _not_ Inuoka?” Bokuto looks up.

Akaashi crouches down to meet his gaze, shaking his head as he uses a finger to lift Bokuto’s chin. He uses the pad of his thumb to smooth out the confused wrinkles on Bokuto’s face and feels the other relax into his hand. “It’s not Inuoka. It doesn’t matter who it is. I’m with you, got it?”

Bokuto nods. “I got it.”

“So, Bokuto, if you could _please_ stop sending friend requests and adding everyone in my class to your Facebook contacts-“

“I want to know who it is!”

“Everyone’s declining for a reason!”

“Then I shall shove everyone into a group and message them-“

“ _No,_ Bokuto-san!”

-

_[ Yamamoto (11:19 P.M.): did bokuto just send me a friend request lol ]_

_[ Akama (11:48 P.M.): Keiji- who’s Bokuto Koutarou? ]_

_[ Seguro (12:09 A.M.): [screenshot attached] do I accept this person cuz u two are mutuals but idk him ]_

_[ Kenma (12:16 A.M.): please tell Bokuto to stop sending everyone friend requests ]_

“Kuroo,”

“You should’ve made your relationship public, Akaashi.”

“Don’t scold me! I thought it was pretty obvious-“

“It’s not. It’s exactly the same as _before_ you started dating-“

“I don’t mean-

“Oh! Shirabu just got a request-“

“BOKUTO-SAN!”

-

Akaashi bumps into Inuoka outside the arts building the next day. The junior waves frantically, walking over to Akaashi with a wide grin. “Hey, Prez!”

“Not you, too,” Akaashi comments at the nickname but high fives Inuoka expectantly. “How’s the bust coming along?”

“Almost done!” Inuoka gives him a thumbs-up. “Just need to fix some features, add some details, and I should be good! Hey- do you have some time right now? I can show you before you head off to class!”

“That’s awesome.” Akaashi nods approvingly. “And sure! Let’s go.”

They walk into the sculpting room, Inuoka chattering excitedly about his upcoming projects and tips on sculpting marble (tips Akaashi will never use). Akaashi sits down beside him, humming in acknowledgement as he listens in.

The topic inevitably goes back to Akaashi’s secret admirer.

“I still feel really bad about giving back the chocolates,” Akaashi admits, fiddling with his fingers sheepishly. “Komi said it was rude but Kuroo demanded that I return it. It just wouldn’t be right to keep it.”

“If I were in your shoes, I’d return them too,” Inuoka says reassuringly. “I don’t think I can stomach it if I kept it.”

“Yeah, right? I just keep worrying if I’ve made the wrong decision.” Akaashi sighs.

“Yeah, you _didn’t_ make the wrong decision, don’t worry.” Inuoka hums. “He understood, so all is okay!”

“I guess it means I wouldn’t be awkward around them, yea?” Akaashi continues. “Have to sacrifice my basic respects for my manners and conscience.”

“That’s completely fine. I’m sure Shohei understood perfectly,” Inuoka says dismissively.

_Oh._

Inuoka soon realizes his mistake because his body goes rigid when he turns back to face the bust, freezing mid-way as his eyes quickly dart to Akaashi and back. He inwardly hopes Akaashi hasn’t noticed his slip-up and his little mistake, _begs_ that Akaashi hasn’t noticed because he’ll get eaten ali-

Akaashi frowns, _noticing the said mistake_. “Shohei?”

Inuoka firmly locks his eyes on the bust and refuses to meet Akaashi’s gaze. “Huh? Who?”

“Did you say Shohei?”

“Huh?”

Akaashi snorts. “You don’t have to hide it from me anymore. I know him. Shohei Fukunaga, right?”

He distinctly remembers the dark-haired boy who sits next to him in digital design, the one who makes amazing artwork on his own but always asks Akaashi for advice on how to improve. He’s fun and easy to talk to and is additionally a talented artist on his own, yet still humble about his own skills. He’s skilled and always determined to improve, admirable traits that Akaashi finds a liking to.

But Fukunaga’s not Bokuto, and Akaashi knows that no one will ever come close in comparison to the golden-eyed boy who waits for him every evening and feeds his Venus flytrap junk.

Inuoka winces. “Damn, can you pretend that you don’t know that I let it slip?”

“Yeah, don’t worry, I won’t bring it up.” Akaashi’s grinning amusedly now. “ _Really?_ I didn’t expect it to be him!”

“He’s too shy to say anything.” Inuoka sighs. “I’ve been telling him to just go for it for the past four years now and he kept saying ‘wait, wait, I’m not ready yet’! And now he’s got no shot. He’s so stubborn!”

“That I can vouch for,” Akaashi agrees. “He’s probably the most stubborn person in the entire digital design course. He’s also pretty hard on himself.”

“ _Extremely_ hard on himself. Got the whole ‘I have to be the best’ thing going on.” Inuoka waves his hand dismissively. “That doesn’t matter now, though. He’ll never compare to Konoha-san.”

Akaashi freezes. “Wh-“

“I mean, you can’t compare _anyone_ to Konoha-san.” Inuoka continues. “Didn’t he graduate top of his class? His reports and labs are honestly impressive and he’s a genius. It’ll be impossible to be any better than Konoha-san, let’s be real.”

Akaashi dares to think that though many people aren’t better than Konoha-san in terms of academics, many are still better personality-wise.

However, he appears to have thought for too long because Inuoka’s smile drops in an instant.

“Konoha-san, right?” Inuoka blinks, sudden desperation flitting into his features when Akaashi gawks, open-mouthed. “Your boyfriend.”  
“Konoha-san?!”

“…are you not dating Konoha-san, Akaashi-san?”

“Wh-what?! No!”

“But aren’t you dating a TA?! Isn’t Konoha a-“

“So is Bokuto-“

“Gah!” Inuoka yells, slapping a hand across his forehead as he leans back against the chair. “I gave Shohei the wrong name!”

Akaashi’s frozen rigid. “ _No_ , Inuoka, please tell me you’re joking-“

“I told him it was Konoha-san!” Inuoka’s sweating, leg bouncing up and down as he frets over his bust’s eyebrows. “Akaashi-san, Akaashi-san, I told him it was Konoha-san! Wah, is it not? It’s _Bokuto-san?!_ I’m so screwed! Konoha-san’s so screwed!”

“What’s he going to do to _Konoha?!_ ”

“ _Konoha is so screwed-_ “

-

Konoha’s not having a good day.

He learns too late that he hates being a teacher. It’s just too much work that he never saw coming, too many complaints from a handful of students who just _didn’t want to get their job done_. Then there’s the matter of deadlines and grading and angry emails in their wake, demanding rescores and retests over unsatisfactory marks that _weren’t_ his problem, to begin with, they were all _their_ problem, and his third month as a middle school general science TA is _seriously_ taking a toll on his patience-

That’s why, when someone stops right in front of him in the coffee shop, he finally loses it at 5 in the afternoon.

“What do you _want?!_ ” Konoha damn near cries, tugging on his hair as he bows repetitively to the person he nearly bumped into, too ashamed to look them in the eye. “What more does this universe _want_ from me?! Haven’t I already been miserable, growing and shedding white hairs like a dog?! Have I not seen the worst after seeing Komi break out in hives after accidentally using my organic shampoo?! Haven’t I already seen the end of the world from that stuffy classroom on the sixth floor that has no ventilation and broken air conditioning?! Have I not already experienced the devil as the ninety-something students in the seventh grade who think they know anything about their fucking _GPA?!_ What more do you want from me?! I’m already so old! You cannot possibly want more! I am void of all- money, talent, emotion-”

He looks up through his tears and, when an unfamiliar face stares back questioningly and with a lot of concern, Konoha straight up _panics._ “Oh, oh _fuck_ , uh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I didn’t know-”

“Hey, man, are you okay?” The stranger asks gently. “You sound really, _really_ stressed.”

Konoha’s not sure where all this confidence is coming from but he shakes his head regardless and sobs. “No! Agh, my life is in shambles! I hate being a TA! I should’ve picked general research instead of education!”

“Ah!” The stranger smiles sympathetically. “I nearly went into art education as well. I’ve been told that kids- students, maybe- they’re just too hard to deal with. That’s tough, man.”

“Yeah, dude, who knew middle schoolers were such assholes?! I don’t remember being _that_ annoying when I was a kid.” Konoha agrees. “Are they all like this now? Those gremlins?”

“Who knows? I wouldn’t be surprised. From what you’ve described, my cousins are just as bad.” The stranger sticks out his hand. “Fukunaga Shohei. Nice to meet you.”

“Konoha Akinori,” Konoha replies, shaking his hand enthusiastically. “Yo, thanks for dealing with me so well just then. I have no clue what came over me. I think I might be slightly possessed.”

“Possessed by the evil spirits of the kids you’re teaching?” Fukunaga says amusedly. “That makes sense, don’t you think?”

Konoha laughs. “You’re right, you’re right! Hey, you’re pretty cool.After witnessing my grand breakdown, I’m sure we’ll be good friends!”

Fukunaga’s smile dips, a frown replacing the previously happy expression. “Would Akaashi be okay with that?”

Konoha blinks. “Why wouldn’t he be?”

“I mean, because of the relationship you guys have,” Fukunaga says sheepishly, tearing his gaze away and rubbing the back of his neck. “I’d understand if he didn’t want you hanging around me all that much, since you guys _are_ dating after all, and things like this get really complicated-“

“Dating?”

“Yeah, he turned down my letter- which I’m really sorry about!” Fukunaga bows repetitively, still not meeting Konoha’s eyes. He’s much too flustered, a red blush brushing over his cheeks as he tries not to die of embarrassment right then and there. In all honesty, Konoha intimidates him to no end, and after knowing that Konoha’s dating Akaashi, Fukunaga’s just right above imploded. “I had no clue! If I’d known he was in a relationship, I wouldn’t have sent it to you guys! I hope you guys are really happy, I genuinely-“

“I’m not Akaashi’s boyfriend.” Konoha grins.

Fukunaga stops and looks up at Konoha behind his bangs. The panic subsides until all is left is simmering confusion. “Huh?”

“Yeah, it’s not me.” Konoha taps Fukunaga on the shoulder and points at a figure behind him. Fukunaga turns around in a whiz, staring wide-eyed at a sulking barista behind the counter. “It’s that guy. You’re in for a real hoot, Fukunaga-san!”

“Bokuto-san!” Fukunaga exclaims. “Agh! The roommate!”

“The roommate-?!”

“I’ve met him before! He was looking for Akaashi that time!” Fukunaga adds. “Man, he’s really intimidating!

“Yeeeeeup,” Konoha smirks. “I’m just waiting until he realizes it’s you. It’s going to be _so_ fun to watch. Hey, by the way, tell me when he finds you, yeah? I need to record this!”

“Konoha-san, what’s he going to do-“

Fukunaga gets his answer a few days later in the school campus, right under the eyes of around fifty other interested students.

-

“You!” Bokuto hollers, pointing a finger at an unexpecting student standing innocently across the courtyard. The student freezes, whizzing around in horror as Bokuto’s voice echoes through the campus. Heads turn and feet stop walking as everyone regards his noisy presence. “For Akaashi’s hand, I challenge you to a duel! With lightsabers!”

Akaashi slaps a hand to his forehead. “What the _fuck_ , Bokuto-san?”

-

“Konoha-“

“I know what you’re going to ask, Akaashi, and the answer is _no, Bokuto will not fight him literally._ He’ll probably come up with some stupid, insanely wack idea to assert dominance.“

“Konoha, exactly how weird are we talking about?”

“…you don’t know?”

“We’ve never made it to that-“

“He once challenged Kuroo to a sandball fight at the kid’s sandpit in the park.”

-

That’s how Akaashi finds himself in this less-than-desirable situation on a Friday afternoon, scampering beside Inuoka as they hurry out of the art building together. Bokuto’s standing a few feet away, holding two giant foam lightsabers while pointing his finger at a cowering boy standing opposite him. Fukunaga’s wincing, almost shrivelling into his jacket while Konoha wears a manic grin.

“Huh, Konoha-?!”

“Akaashi, Akaashi!” Konoha waves excitedly. “I told you it’d be epic!”

Bokuto doesn’t hear him because he’s still standing with the two giant lightsabers, a determined glare pulling his face down as he thinks long and hard about possible attack positions. Fukunaga looks absolutely horrified, glancing over at Akaashi and Inuoka in desperation for advice or maybe a way out of this.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi starts, making his way to Bokuto only to be stopped by the latter pointing a lightsaber in his direction, narrowing his eyes.

“Don’t come any further!” Bokuto yells. “This is a fair and square duel to see who has the rights to your hand!”

Akaashi considers fighting Bokuto with the lightsabers instead. “No, Bokuto-san, you really don’t need to do that.”

By now, the remaining students on the campus have stopped to take a closer look at the ridiculous scene unfolding before their eyes. There are a few whoops and cheers from students who recognize Bokuto and Bokuto hoots back excitedly, turning around to show them his lightsabers. Some “ _Go get him, Bo!_ ”s and “ _What a cool lad!_ ”s can be heard around the campus, doing nothing but fueling Bokuto’s determined energy.

Akaashi turns to Fukunaga to apologise for Bokuto’s reckless behaviour but freezes when he notices the smile on the other’s face. He looks more relaxed than nervous now, features softening as he watches Bokuto interact with the crowd so easily. Fukunaga grins when he notices Akaashi staring quizzically.

“He’s simpleminded,” Fukunaga explains, gesturing with his chin to Bokuto standing amidst a group of underclassmen. “He’s also really self-driven and he’s very proudly himself. I admire that about him.”

Akaashi laughs, nodding. “It’s not hard to make him happy.”

“What I’d find annoying in other people become endearing when it comes to him,” Fukunaga adds. “You’re really lucky to have each other.”

Konoha gawks. “Are you not going to fight him, Shohei?”

Fukunaga frowns. “I wasn’t planning-“

“OI!” Bokuto yells, making the three of them jump in surprise. “YOU’RE TALKING TO AKAASHI?! YOU’RE CHEATING! THAT’S AGAINST THE RULES!”

“THERE ARE NO RULES!” Konoha yells back.

Bokuto dashes over, shoving a lightsaber into Fukunaga’s hands. Fukunaga stumbles in surprise as Bokuto yells, “For Akaashi!”

“Bokuto-san, there’s really no need-“ Akaashi begins, but Bokuto’s already thrown off his bag and is standing determinedly in front of Fukunaga, lightsaber ready in hand. Fukunaga heaves an exasperated sigh before shaking his head and taking the lightsaber, dropping his bag and mirroring Bokuto’s pose. Someone whoops from the crowd of students.

“Remind me how old he is again?” Akaashi deadpans.

Konoha cackles before he begins recording. “Owl boy turned 23 five months ago.”

Bokuto wins the lightsaber war after bonking Fukunaga on the head. All it takes is Fukunaga saying “You win,” in a nonchalant tone for Bokuto to cheer loudly, dashing over to Akaashi and picking him up in a big hug, spinning them around the campus. Akaashi sighs, shaking his head as he says, “That was very unnecessary, Bokuto-san,” only to be completely ignored by the other, cheering happily as Bokuto only clings on tighter.

“See, Akaashi? See, Konoha? I’m worthy!” Bokuto grins. “I’m worthy of Akaashi and none of you can tell me otherwise!”

Akaashi scoffs. “You always have been _worthy_ , Bokuto-san-“

“You!” Bokuto swivels around, pointing a finger at Fukunaga. The other flinches and cowers under the intense stare. “Good match! Great job today but I’m sorry to say that I’ve been told that I’m indestructible! I am the reigning champion of lightsaber matches!”

Fukunaga blinks.

“That’s because everyone gives up before they can even try,” Konoha whispers to Akaashi. “No one wants to waste their time doing something this pointless.”

“It was fun for them, though,” Akaashi says as Fukunaga finally breaks into a grin and laughs at one of Bokuto’s joke. “I can tell they really enjoyed it.”

“I can’t believe they fought over you with lightsabers,” Inuoka adds, picking up Fukunaga’s green lightsaber dropped unceremoniously on the floor. “Bokuto’s full of surprises.”

Akaashi snorts. “You never know what to expect with him.”

-

Akaashi finds Konoha on his front door a few days later, waving excitedly when he notices Akaashi. He waves his computer excitedly, eyebrows wiggling as he drums his fingers against the screen. “The most perfect video in all of existence is about to be shown to you, Akaashi Keiji!”

Akaashi laughs, receiving brief flashbacks to the first time Konoha’d come over with his laptop and self-made jokes. It was after the firecrackers incident, Konoha having recorded it all and wanting to share it with the newbie involved. They sat in front of Konoha’s laptop watching for a solid fourteen minutes before Bokuto woke up.

“No way,” Akaashi says this time, considering if it could _possibly be about Fukunaga and Bo-_

Konoha grins. “Yes, way. The Bokuto and Fukunaga lightsaber fight in HD, a very goodly bad video, if I do say so myself.”

Akaashi kicks the door wider. “Show me!”

As promised, it _is not_ of good quality, Akaashi laughing at random moments where the camera’s out of focus and others where the yelps are just too loud. The blurriness of the two fighting guys makes the video all the funnier and Akaashi finds himself howling with Konoha over a particularly unattractive picture of Bokuto.

They hear Bokuto squawking incredulously a few minutes later when he wakes up and trickles out into the living room, holding his flytrap in his hand. Konoha’s video blasts at full volume and full screen.

“Not this again, Konoha!” Bokuto-whines.

Konoha blinks. “It’s good content for the fans.”

“ _Fans-?!_ ”

“Where do you think I store my videos, Bokuto-san?” Konoha asks innocently.

-

“Akaashi?”

Akaashi stifles a yawn, turning to look at Bokuto in the eye. “Yes, Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto fidgets with the edge of his t-shirt, pulling at loose threads as he looks up occasionally to read the movie’s subtitles. He’s nervous, Akaashi can tell, obvious through the lift in his shoulders and the furrow in his brow.

“I was really scared when you got the confession,” Bokuto admits quietly. “I was really scared that you’d find someone better and leave me, you know?”

“I know,” Akaashi nods, reaching over and patting Bokuto’s head. The latter leans into the touch. “If I were in your position, I’d feel scared, too. But you have to remember my promise, Bokuto-san, and it’s that I’m not going to leave you for some random secret admirer. You’re it for me.”

Bokuto grins. “Really?”

“Yeah. Why would I lie?”

“Good point.” Bokuto hums, turning back to Gordon Ramsay on the TV. “Don’t leave me all alone.”

“I won’t.”

“Good, because I fed Mr. Pickles a baked bean yesterday and I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“…”

“Don’t look at me like that! It was Konoha’s idea! It was Konoha! He said the bean and plant have the same nutrients- ow! Why did you hit me?!”

“ _Konoha?!_ ”

“Something about ‘family eats family’- ow!”

Akaashi shakes his head, sighing affectionately.

This type of pointless banter, of random topics they’ve gone through together, is something he’s slowly grown to love. It happens anywhere: in the kitchen, living room, any place they can think of for pointless discussions and arguments that make zero sense in general.

_Does he love Bokuto-san?_

Akaashi glances at the boisterous man next to him, occasionally throwing in compliments and commentary and being his happy, _good_ self. He always catches Akaashi staring and beams back.

_Does he love Bokuto-san?_

He doesn’t need to question that to know his answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was dozing off writing this chapter and literally wrote something about boats and when i went back to edit i was like ??????  
> ANYWAY  
> I hope you guys enjoyed this one! it's a little shorter than the rest but i didn't want it to be too lengthy, since tomorrow's chapter is going to be LONG long (and i have to wake up in about 5 hours for school HAHA).  
> see you guys for the EPIC finale tomorrow!


	7. endings and everythings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto and Akaashi try to bake their own wedding cake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bokuaka Week - Day 9 - prompt: cooking/baking

_8 years later._

Date: December 4th, 2020. 

Time: 10:39 A.M., nine minutes after the mall opens for the day.

Location: the supermarket on the second floor.

Current clueless protagonists of a fanfic novel: Bokuto Koutarou and Akaashi Keiji.

Current accomplices on speed dial: Konoha Akinori and Komi Haruki.

Current person about to lose his shit: Kuroo Tetsurou.

“Akaashi?” A tall man yells down the supermarket aisle. Several people jump and click their tongues angrily at the booming and unsuspecting sound, shooting death glares his way. The man doesn’t notice and turns his bright eyes to the dairy section, trying to locate the source of his attention. “Are we supposed to buy plain flour or self-rising flour? What’s the difference? Is one _faster_ than the other?”

“Faster?” A shorter man with a flat stare and nonchalant expression turns the corner and walks towards him, readjusting the tattered blue and white scarf around his neck. “What do you mean?”

“Does one make the cake bake faster or something-“ The first man begins, turning the flour over in his hand and accidentally dropping it in the process, the poor bag plummeting to the ground and dying in a cloud of white. The two of them stare at it before one hits the other on the back of the head.

Akaashi sighs. “Bokuto, it’s written in the recipe. Plain flour.”

“Ah!” Bokuto grins, picking the flour up and tossing it into his trolley. “I knew that.”

“Shouldn’t you know this, Masterchef?” Akaashi teases, placing a carton of eggs and a stick of butter into the trolley. “After all, you’re objectively the better cook between the two of us.”

The taller man bends down to his height, winking sly before leaning close to his ear.

“NO!” Bokuto shouts gleefully, earning a startled jump from Akaashi quickly joined by a scowl. The remaining few people in aisle take their leave, throwing glares over their shoulders before turning sharply on their heels ( _It’s much too early for this_ , half of them thinks). Akaashi pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, clicking his tongue disapprovingly.

“Bokuto-san, you’re being disruptive.” Akaashi starts pushing the cart away from the shelves of flour, heading down to sift through the boxes of sugar down the aisle. “Do we have icing sugar at home?”

“Yeah!” Bokuto sprints over, throwing his arm around Akaashi’s shoulders as he pretends to look for the sugar as well. “Did you know that Mr. Pickles can eat icing sugar?”

Akaashi takes a box of caster sugar from the shelf and bonks Bokuto on the head with it. “Don’t tell me you fed him some.”

“I did. The trap opened back up.”

“That’s because it didn’t actually _digest_ any of the sugar. It didn’t sense any of it.”

“…oh.” Bokuto frowns, a little crestfallen. “Should I feed _more_ -“

“Bokuto, what else do we need?”

“Double cream!”

(I should not fail to mention the devious grins exchanged between the two of them when they approach the liquor section, Bokuto grabbing the Cointreau off the shelf and winking profusely. I should also not fail to mention that you should never drink Cointreau on its own.)

They carry the groceries out of the market and to the car in the parking lot, Bokuto humming a tune under his breath as Akaashi marks down their purchases for the week. They’re surprisingly calm, their expressions relaxed as they prepare for the rest of the afternoon together. Secretly, both of them know that the afternoon wouldn’t be anything less than _pure chaos_ , but this is Akaashi’s idea after all and Bokuto’s never been the one to make the decisions. Secretly, Bokuto’s just as excited, telling himself confidently that nothing could possibly go wrong.

Kuroo’s waiting in the car, seat reclined all the way as he takes his nap. Akaashi frowns when he realizes that despite the freezing temperature outside, Kuroo’s sound asleep, blatantly unaware of the way his own lips are slightly blue and his cheeks are dusted red. Akaashi raps his knuckles on the glass, trying to get Kuroo’s attention and signalling that they’re done.

No response.

Akaashi knocks again.

“Is he dead?”

“I don’t-“

“He’s sleeping,” Bokuto realizes.

“Yeah, good job-“

“We should let him sleep.”

“We _shouldn’t_ , because he’s going to freeze to death,” Akaashi replies stubbornly. “Look at him, his lips are all blue and his skin is probably ice-cold. He doesn’t know how to take care of himself!”

Akaashi leans down close to the glass and cups his hands around his mouth. He takes a deep breath.

“ _TETSUROU!_ ”

The name is muffled by the glass but it does its job. Kuroo’s eyes flutter. He mumbles something incoherent.

“How much sleep did he get last night?” Bokuto wonders aloud as Akaashi screams his name again.

This time, Kuroo manages to wake up, taking in the grinning Bokuto and frowning Akaashi by his window before nodding excitedly and fumbling around to unlock the trunk.

“Kuroo,” Akaashi says the second the trunk lifts. “When did you sleep last night?”

“Uh- 2 A.M.? It’s actually pretty early since I’ve been sleeping later than that for the past few weeks-“ Kuroo starts.

“Didn’t I tell you that you really don’t need to stay up to watch Kenma’s tournaments?” Akaashi reprimands, sighing heavily when he realizes that he’s just started an argument he can’t win. “Kenma’s with me on this one. They’re all recorded, anyway. You can just watch them on your way to work.”

Kuroo laughs. “Can’t do that.”

“You look like a raccoon, you know,” Bokuto adds. “Those stripey things that live in garbage-“

“I know what a raccoon is, you moron.” Kuroo barks. “But being there for Kenma’s tournaments makes Kenma happy, so I stay up anyway.”

“At what cost?!” Bokuto wails. “You look like a fucking chessboard-“

“If he’s happy, that’s all there is to it! You don’t look much better, fucking zebra mosquito-ass hair-“

“Bokuto, pass me the orange peels.”

“KUROO JUST INSULTED ME!”

“Orange peels.”

“Got it.” A box of dried orange peels is handed over obediently, the grey-haired man turning back to helping his partner unload the groceries.

“Buzz buzz,” comes the annoying voice at the front.

To Akaashi’s dismay, a packet of ground almonds comes flying at Kuroo’s head.

-

“Alright!” Akaashi claps, grinning excitedly as he pulls up the recipe. He slaps it on the fridge, scanning the paper for possible typos before cheering. “This is going to be the biggest task of our lives! The bestest! The most rewarding! Everything I’ve lived for!”

“That’s kind of sad,” Bokuto jokes, rummaging around and pulling out the measuring cups and scale from the cupboards. “Seriously, Keiji? Baking a cake?”

“Not just any cake!” Akaashi whirls around, pointing a spoon at Bokuto’s face. “A _wedding_ cake. Most importantly, _my_ wedding cake.”

“ _Our_ wedding cake.”

“ _My_ wedding cake,” Akaashi repeats stubbornly. He scans the counter of ingredients, turning back to the recipe to double-check. “Do we have everything?”

“Yup!” Bokuto drags his finger down the extensive, deep story from the chef printed at the top before locating the first steps. “I’ll do the cake tin, you do the eggs and sugar?”

“Works!” Akaashi nods, taking the measuring cups from the set on the counter. “You know, Kou, I’m a little concerned for the two of us.”

“I’m not,” Bokuto yells over the clanging of falling cake tins. He sticks his whole body into the drawers under the sink, looking for the 20-centimetre tin. A shout of triumph is heard when he locates the culprit. “They do say that couples who fail together stay together.”

“No one says that, Kou.”

“I do!” Bokuto straightens, waving the tin in his hand. It clanks noisily.

Akaashi sighs, a fond smile on the edges of his lips as he cracks the eggs into a bowl. “What do you think Kuroo’s doing right now?”

“Sleeping,” Bokuto says confidently. “I heard he took the day off today and both you and I know what he does in his free time.”

“I’m still pretty amazed that he’s working in a government lab,” Akaashi adds. “He didn’t think they’d take notice of him after he told us he screwed up the interview but, let’s be real, when does he ever screw up anything? He’s really made it so far.”

“I remember he used to be scared of it,” Bokuto adds, pushing parchment paper into the cake tin. He frowns as the paper springs back to its flat form. “Do you remember when he’d stay up really late just churning out applications to _everything_ he could get his hands on? He lived on a lot of fear and uncertainty.”

“It’s a good thing Komi got him out of it.” Akaashi nods. “I swear he was going to collapse after all that. Didn’t he have around three interviews a day? It must’ve been really tiring.”

“I’m honestly impressed with him.” Bokuto continues, now wrestling with the parchment paper. Akaashi sighs and reaches over to help, crumpling the paper before smoothing it back out and lining it into the pan. “Ah, thanks! Anyway, it’s a good thing he found a job he’s happy with.”

“Same for Komi,” Akaashi measures out the sugar and pours it into the bowl. “Those two deserve it.”

“Can you believe that Komi’s a surgeon?” Bokuto asks incredulously. “Whenever I drop by the hospital on my way home I always make sure to check up on the dude. He gets darker and darker raccoon eyes with each time that I see him.”

“He’s hardworking, though,” Akaashi notes. “He’s a good doctor. He’s really dedicated to his work. It’s admirable, really, but I could always see that side of him from when we were still in school.”

“He was hardworking from the start!” Bokuto agrees, turning to dig around the bags for the almonds and orange zest. “It’s not surprising that he made it.”

“He’s probably one of the most diligent people we know.”

“Never seen someone more exhausted than him in my entire life, too.”

“Now that’s a lie.” Akaashi corrects him, grinning at Bokuto’s puzzled expression. “You forgot Konoha.”

Bokuto laughs, loud and clear, recalling their blond friend with the nasty smirk that has grown into a permanent frown. “Agh, jeez! You’re right! Konoha wins again!”

“I feel like he’s aged since the last time we saw him,” Akaashi mused. “Not sure if the lighter strands in his hair are blond or grey. Education is surely taking its toll on him.”

“The idiot’s too much of a pushover sometimes!” Bokuto adds.

“I still distinctly remember him complaining about his days as a TA,” Akaashi says, whisking the mixture while holding on tightly to the bowl. “He’d tell us how much he hated the kids- and they were kids of all levels too! He was a middle school and high school TA at different points and he _hated them all._ I didn’t think he’d ever go back into anything remotely similar to teaching.”

“Yet here he is, living his good life as a middle school science teacher.” Bokuto finishes. “You know, I find this extremely ironic. Top of our class, had the results and the skill to go _anywhere_ and he becomes a _middle school teacher,_ not to mention that he’s the only one out of all of us who hates kids with a burning passion. What do you think the kids feed him every day to keep him there? I tell him to blink twice if he ever needs help when I stop by during his lunch break to visit.”

“Did they poison him with their goodies? You know how kids are, sly and evil and small gremlin tricksters.”

“I’m thinking it’s got something to do with hypnosis. Their smiles probably did everything… and the eyes! It’s got to be in the eyes, Keiji!”

Akaashi nods. “I remind him every once in a while that he’s supposed to be the pissy uncle who hates kids.”

“He doesn’t admit that he actually loves his class!” Bokuto yells, completely frustrated. “His pride is at an unreachable level. He puts on this angry face before he heads off to work every day but he _always_ comes back smiling.”

“He’d make a good parent one day,” Akaashi observes. “He’s got the patience and the honesty. Also, the experience with middle school probably helps a lot. I don’t think he knows this but I can totally see him as more than the pissy uncle.”

“Don’t tell him that. He might just beat you up.”

“He stabbed me with an eraser.”

“That also sounds like him.”

As Bokuto measures out the flour and butter, he couldn’t help but feel a small pang of nostalgia and something bittersweet at the conversation he’d just had. The thought of their friends growing up and living out stable jobs used to be something similar to a joke, a casual exchange during break and lunchtimes while they made jeering jokes at each other, but it’s clearly far from the case now. It’s not that he and Akaashi weren’t having it the same way- they are, Akaashi working full time as a florist and illustrator and Bokuto spending his full time in the physical chemistry room back at their old college campus. Bokuto couldn’t think of a different life where he’d be any happier.

In a sense, he just didn’t want anything to change. He wants to cling on to what’s familiar to him, and what’s familiar is the five of them, going out for drinks together on Friday evenings and the occasional meetups during the week when they could spare the time. The moments they spend together seem to be frozen in time, little pockets of their lives where everything’s like it used to be back when they were still in college. Bokuto’s found this pattern and those memories to be routine and he’s so desperate not to let it go.

He’s afraid of them growing up completely and leaving that part of their lives behind. Falling apart scares Bokuto more than anything.

Akaashi seems to be able to read Bokuto’s mind because he reaches over and pats the other on the back. “Stop overthinking this. I’m pretty sure they’re never going to really grow up on us, you know?”

“They’re all so old now,” Bokuto sighs. “We’re all successful adults with stable jobs. It’s kind of crazy.”

“And I’m sure they feel the same about you.” Akaashi doesn’t hide the grin that spreads across his face. “What do you think, college professor?”

Bokuto snorts. “Don’t call me that, Prez. I didn’t think I’d accept the offer when I first got it, you know? It was just… too much. I was a little scared that I’d be inadequate.”

“I can’t see anyone else as a better physical chemistry professor,” Akaashi argues. “And don’t call me ‘Prez’. That’s an old joke.”

“Timeless,” Bokuto says stubbornly. “You’ll always be ‘Prez’ to me.”

He pulls out his phone and sifts through his music, dropping his chin on Akaashi’s shoulder as the other mixed the eggs and sugar. “What should we listen to?”

“Christmas?” Akaashi suggests. “To get into the winter mood.”

“You have no winter mood.”

“That’s a lie!”

They fall into a comfortable silence interrupted only when asking each other for materials and ingredients. Bokuto fumbles with the flour, spilling more than a reasonable amount on the floor that leaves the soles of their feet white and dusty. Akaashi accidentally lets an eggshell fall into the bowl and they spend ages trying to get it out using the fork, eventually giving up and leaving Bokuto to plunge his finger in the mix and dig out the shell (that is, after much grumbling and protesting from him). When upbeat and catchy songs come on, Bokuto whips out his ( _pathetic, really,_ Akaashi thinks) dance moves and slips a good fifteen times on the flour on the ground. Akaashi, reluctant at first, eventually fails to hide his smile and joins in by screaming out the lyrics. They’re so loud they miss the preheat signal from the oven.

It’s an understatement to call the baking ‘chaos’, really. Bokuto is no baker and Akaashi is pathetically inadequate when it comes to anything involving an oven and they constantly have to ring up Komi and Konoha, asking exactly how long it takes to preheat an oven and why the batter looks a lot like pizza dough. Eventually, Komi and Konoha stay on the call, listening in to Bokuto and Akaashi’s baking orchestra across the line.

“Maybe we should’ve bought the cake from the bakery instead,” Akaashi muses after Bokuto accidentally dumps the entire bowl of orange zest into the mix. Bokuto squawks in horror. “We only need three tablespoons of that, Kou.”

“ _You think_?” Konoha drawls from the phone. “ _It sounds like war over there. You sure someone’s not dead?_ ”

“No!” Bokuto interrupts, completely determined as he scoops the zest back into the bowl. “And no one is _dead_ , Konoha. Besides, this is our wedding, so inevitably it should be _our_ wedding cake.”

“How the tables have turned,” Akaashi sighs as Bokuto knocks a bowl off the counter and onto Akaashi’s foot. “Ouch, Kou.”

“ _What are you doing, Bokuto-“_

“I’m sorry, Keiji!”

“In the oven it goes!” Akaashi says as the oven beeps, ignoring Bokuto’s whines and pulling the oven door open before coming to an abrupt stop. “Oh- did I just miss the bell? The lights are off.”

“ _That’s because you missed the preheat bell!_ ” Konoha barks. “ _You just let the oven bake air for the past fifty minutes!_ ”

“Did we?” Akaashi blinks. “I didn’t notice.”

“We didn’t burn anything, did we?” Bokuto sniffs the inside of the oven. “It smells fine to me-“

“ _No, because there’s nothing in the fucking oven, you stupid fuck,_ ” Konoha’s voice lags.

“I’m just going to... do this...” Akaashi says awkwardly as he turns the timer back to the fifty minutes and shoves the cake batter in. “Hacks.”

From Akaashi’s speaker, Konoha groans.

“How’s it going?” They hear a door open and Komi’s voice joins the buzzing from the speaker.

“They baked air.”

“…at least they didn’t burn anything.”

“Akaashi,” Bokuto’s voice drifts from somewhere above the oven.

“Yes?”

“Is it Celsius or Fahrenheit? Did you check?”

-

Akaashi gently sets the pot on the stove, frowning when he notices the burnt bottom of the metal. “Whoa, what happened here? We need to buy a new pot soon, Kou.”

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to tell you about that,” Bokuto says, bringing over the orange peels. “Is it still safe to use?”

They blink at each other, debating silently before Akaashi lifts the pot and lugs out a giant pan. It clangs noisily on the stove. “The pan it is!”

“ _Are they using a pan to make the orange syrup?_ ” Komi asks.

“ _Yup_.” Konoha sighs. “ _I told you. Chaos_.”

“Do we boil these together?” Bokuto asks, fingers hovering above the sugar and Cointreau.

“Yep,” Akaashi nods, taking the measuring cup and levelling out the sugar. “Can you pour the water in? Just six tablespoons are enough.”

“Got it,” Bokuto hums. “Say, can we drink the Cointreau?”

“Um,” Akaashi picks up the liqueur, scanning the label. “It doesn’t say. Wouldn’t hurt to try, would it?”

“We _are_ adults, anyway,” Bokuto grins as Akaashi uncaps the alcohol, the two of them too excited to hear Komi’s protests across the phone. Akaashi pours a good amount into a cup and takes a swig.

There’s no such thing as throwing up the human psyche, but if there _was_ , if it were _possible_ , it would probably be found in the body of Akaashi Keiji at exactly 12:24 in the afternoon on December 4th, 2020, as the florist grabs the sink and wheezes his mind and soul out in the form of hyperventilation and oversaturated French Cointreau. Bokuto screams as he slams his hand on Akaashi’s back, trying to help the other man but to no avail because Bokuto failed high school health and has absolutely no idea how to help a choking person. Akaashi, already losing his entire sense of direction, pulls his arm back to try to stop Bokuto’s reckless hits from permanently destroying his consciousness. Bokuto, nothing but pure dimwitted energy ninety percent of the time, interprets the movement as a sign to continue and whacks him harder. Komi joins them in a chorus of shrieks.

“ _Why didn’t you say anything, Konoha?!_ ”

“ _Please, Komi. Do I look like I’d say anything?_ ”

“ _Are you seriously recording-_ “

“ _I’m going to get so many likes!”_

-

Perhaps Akaashi is a magician, or perhaps Bokuto just has insanely good luck when it comes to the culinary arts because the cake turns out fine (Bokuto chooses not to mention the burnt layer that he scraped off with a potato peeler). Akaashi takes out the mixer and they prepare to make the crème patisserie.

“This should be a breeze!” Akaashi declares. “No baking. Only mixing.”

“That’s right!” Bokuto agrees, pulling a giant metal bowl towards them. ”What do we need?”

“Butter, sugar... vanilla extract...” Akaashi’s voice trails off when his eyes land on the bottle on the table. “Kou, what happened to the vanilla extract?”

“The what?”

“This.” Akaashi holds up the empty bottle, turning it upside down where not even a single drop is left. “Didn’t we just buy this today?”

“Ah, about that...” Bokuto’s voice trails off when he sees the bottle in question. He blushes a deep red, scratching the back of his head as he scans the counter to find something else to keep him occupied. “Uh...”

“Did you pour the rest down the sink?”

“Ah, no...”

“Then what happened-“

“I drank it.”

Akaashi freezes. “What?”

“I drank the rest.” Bokuto winces at Akaashi’s angrily narrowed eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! It just smelled so good so I was like _hey_ , what if I took a sip, you know? Just a small sip? But I accidentally drank _everything_ -“

“WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO ABOUT THE ICING, BOKUTO-SAN?”

“KUROO, KUROO! CALL KUROO!”

That’s how Kuroo Tetsurou finds himself in Bokuto and Akaashi’s kitchen during his usual nap time, his bottle of vanilla extract in his pocket. He was woken up abruptly from his nap by Kenma tapping his forehead roughly, saying that a certain chaotic couple was on the phone and in need of vanilla extract after one of them downed their entire supply like a shot (he didn’t need to mention the name for the two of them to know which one was the culprit). Kuroo’s eye twitched.

“Here,” Kuroo says as he makes eye contact with Akaashi and tosses him the bottle. The latter catches it, handing it to Bokuto in the kitchen before walking out to the living room. “Now, I’m going to head home to finish my nap. Do not bother me again-“

“No!” Bokuto interrupts, heading out of the kitchen with a giant tub of crème fraîche. “No, no, no, you _have_ to help us-“

“I am not baking your wedding cake-“

“PLEASE!” Bokuto shouts, Kuroo clicking his tongue in irritation. “I know you want to nap and I know you really _need_ to nap but Akaashi and I are very, _very_ inadequate and we would really appreciate it if you helped us-“

“Can’t you just use Siri or something?”

“We get married in two days, Kuroo. Pretend this is your gift to us.” Bokuto pouts.

Kuroo glares back with all the strength he can muster.

Bokuto shoves the tub at him. “Measure out five hundred millilitres, please.”

Kuroo sighs, following Bokuto into the kitchen as the latter cheers. “You should be glad that I’m your _dear, diligent friend_ , Bo.”

“ _You should take a video of them and play it during the wedding,_ ” Konoha suggests. “ _It’ll make a lot of people laugh-_ ”

Kuroo whizzes around to the source of the sound. “OI! WHY DO _YOU_ GET TO STAY AT HOME?”

“ _I’ve been calling them since 11 in the afternoon._ ” Konoha drawls. “ _I deserve to stay at home._ ”

“ _I_ was the one who drove them to the market, you egotistical bastard!”

“ _Well,_ I _-_ “

“KOUTAROU!”

Silence dawns in the kitchen as the grey-haired man turns around sheepishly, tucking the bottle of vanilla extract into his pocket as he braces for Akaashi’s wrath. The latter walks out from the living room, eyes narrowed to slits as an angry glare settles on the angry lines of his mouth. He takes a deep breath to calm himself. He stands still.

Then-

“ _YOU CANNOT WATER FLYTRAPS WITH FUCKING VANILLA EXTRACT-_ “

“That’s MY vanilla extract, Kou _-_ “

One of Mr. Pickles’ traps snaps shut. Akaashi screams.

-

“Decorating is the best part!” Bokuto grins, holding the piping bag triumphantly as he scans the cake for a clean spot. “I’m going to draw Mr. Pickles-“

“You are _not_ going to draw Mr. Pickles.” Akaashi takes the piping bag from him and sets it down. Bokuto squawks in protest. “We need to fondant the cake first.”

“What?”

“This,” Akaashi pushes the buttercream towards Bokuto. The bowl clatters as it bumps over silverware spread out on the counter. Bokuto reaches out and stops it. “Apply a layer of buttercream to the cake first. We need to cover the whole thing with fondant.”

“But I don’t like fondant!”

“It looks neater with the fondant,” Akaashi replies, rolling out the fondant on a cutting board. “Besides, it looks nicer to the guests. This particular brand of fondant also has the highest reviews, so we probably won’t be too disappointed.”

Bokuto shrugs. “If this taste’s bad it’s on you, Keiji.”

“Well, _thanks_ , Kou.” Akaashi rolls his eyes as he prepares the fondant.

When Bokuto’s done with the buttercream, Akaashi slowly lifts the fondant, being careful not to tear it as he sets it over the tiers. The fondant, to both of their surprise, is fit over the cake nicely, almost perfectly, and Akaashi beams with pride when Kuroo compliments the appearance of the cake. Bokuto asks to try. Akaashi says no.

But Akaashi _does_ let Bokuto decorate the cake, Bokuto taking the opportunity to drop delicate icing flowers around the edges and centre.

“It looks really good,” Kuroo comments when the first tier is done.

“That’s because he’s not finished with it yet,” Akaashi says. “It’s going to look so hideous.”

Akaashi’s right, and it’s not long before Bokuto starts to doodle Venus flytrap art on the side of the cake. The cake immediately loses its aesthetic appeal, the previous clean white fondant stained with green prickly ovals that look eerily similar to unicellular organisms, yet Akaashi and Kuroo watch in fond amusement as Bokuto cheers at his designs.

“I love the cake,” Akaashi says to Kuroo, the two of them wincing at the same time as one of Bokuto’s ovals turn out to be more triangular than predicted. Bokuto frowns, disliking the appearance before drawing a smiley face inside the plant. “It’s very _him_ , you know?”

“Yup,” Kuroo agrees. “You can’t get that cake anywhere else.”

“I don’t even care that the design is hideous. It’s got ‘Kou’ written all over it. I’m impressed.”

Kuroo grins. “I’m surprised you guys managed to pull this off. A whole wedding cake by yourselves? I knew you guys were crazy from the start but _this_? That’s a three-tier cake currently being destroyed by Bokuto’s doodles and it looks pretty darn cool.”

“Mr. Pickles deserves this special treatment after putting up with him for so long,” Akaashi adds, turning around to look at the dining table where the plant still sits patiently, new traps having grown out that morning.

“How is the plant not dead, actually? How do you take care of it, Akaashi?”

“Flytraps, if taken good care of, can usually live up to twenty years. I just give it the water and sunlight it deserves while Kou messes around with everything else.”

“Bokuto _does not_ take good care of that flytrap if I’ve learned anything from the past thirteen years he’s spent with it.”

“It’s his luck. He makes anything and everything good.” Akaashi decides. “And, hold on, has it already been thirteen years?”

“He looks far older than thirty-one, doesn’t he?”

Akaashi grins, elbowing Kuroo in the ribs. “You look just as bad, if not worse.”

A corner of Kuroo’s mouth lifts up into a smirk. “Thank you for the compliment. Just so you know, I’m not letting you guys bake my wedding cake.”

“I don’t want to bake your wedding cake,” Akaashi replies, the smirk on his face mirroring Kuroo’s own. “In fact, I don’t think I want to bake any more after today. I stink of Cointreau and butter. Baking this cake makes up for all of the other times I’ll bake in this life. No more baking for me.”

“I’m pretty sure Bokuto’s thinking the exact opposite,” Kuroo observes, pointing at the wedding cake, which is now decorated a hideous shade of green and black. “He looks far too ecstatic tattooing that thing with his God-awful art. Oh, good Lord. Is that your wedding cake, Akaashi?”

Akaashi stares at the three-tier cake that strangely resembles some sort of swamp monster before nodding gleefully. “Definitely.”

“Give me a second, Akaashi, I need to send a picture of this to Konoha.”

Akaashi waves him off, walking over to Bokuto where the other greets him happily. They take out the cake toppers from the drawers, placing the tiny flytrap figurines of the two of them on the top of the cake. One flytrap wears a blue and white scarf.

 _It’s probably the most_ them _thing they can come up with,_ Kuroo thinks as the two of them high five each other and cheer over the cake. For some reason, he’s feeling oddly sentimental.

 _His best friends_ are _getting married, after all._

It’s been a good few years.

As your narrator, I have the full control over which part of their story I can and will share with you. I’ve shared the good and the bad, the first meeting and the first _everything_ , the many times our student council president had wanted to strangle his roommate and the many times our roommate wanted to tell his underclassman everything, and I believe that there will be many, _many_ more firsts and _everything_ s between the two of them, some involving secrets whispered into the early hours of the morning and some involving poor Mr. Pickles. Flowers from a special florist will be given and assessments needing grading will be cast aside for time spent together.

The wedding on December 6th, 2020, is, I believe, a part of their story that I’ll keep to myself.

It’s a moment I find so incredibly difficult to put into words because it’s a moment that means just a bit too much to the both of them. It’s probably their most intimate moment, standing in front of each other, trying not to shed tears as they exchange promises they’ve heard so many times. What’s familiar to them suddenly becomes anything but that, new words and phrases that hold a heavy but heartfelt meaning. Tears are eventually shed, speeches are given, a dumb and long compilation of their quirks and embarrassing moments are shown (including a video of firecrackers blowing up the interior of a dorm room), and a particular blond-haired man breaks down on the stage as he cries over his two stupid best friends that have ‘grown up too fucking fast’.

I’m deciding to leave it at that.

Just know that they’re happy- the grey-haired man who hides bits of food in a napkin to feed his plant and the dark-haired student council alumni who brings home a box of firecrackers that evening.

Behind the laughter and the joyous smiles shared in a tight embrace, six yellow carnations grow happily in a glass vase, faces turned away from the two Venus flytraps beside them, one looking much browner than the other. An owl mug stained khaki with years’ worth of coffee stains is placed in front of the flowers, next to an assortment of silly candles and a box of old movie tickets gathered from over ten years’ worth of frequenting the cinema together. On the windowsill sits many different plants of different species, a few succulents that are growing confidently and some ferns that aren’t doing quite as well. Framed pictures litter shelves and countertops, two faces recurring in every snapshot while a grinning blond man and a smirking raven-haired one appear in a couple of others. The wardrobe in the bedroom holds the most memories- prints of a digital design major’s artwork, paintings of Venus flytraps and each other in varying levels of expertise, pictures from four years worth of university winter fairs (the same five smiling faces in all of them), and calendars blue-tacked to the wood, jotted down with important dates and events. On the floor in front lies different packs of seeds and if you look closely, you won’t fail to notice the many packets of carnations that remain buried under the roses and the lilies. By the door hangs an old, worn down blue and white scarf, folded neatly above an even older and more tattered white Evangelion t-shirt. Two pairs of shoes lie side by side on the floor.

A boisterous laugh rings through the explosions on the balcony, a softer chuckle joining in. Two people have never smiled wider in their entire lives.

“Can we do this again tomorrow, Keiji? The day after? Until Walmart runs out of firecrackers?”

“We can do this for as long as you’d like, Bokuto-san.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO! THIS IS IT!!!!!  
> To those who've bookmarked my fic and read the previous chapters and stayed with me 'til this very last one: THANK YOU SO, SO MUCH FOR EVERY SINGLE KUDOS, BOOKMARK, COMMENT, AND READ YOU'VE GIVEN ME. Your endless support and constant encouragement really kept me going and I'm so thankful for the patience you've given me. I dedicate this story to you guys and I hope this ending does this fic justice!  
> To those who are new: THANK YOU FOR READING TO THE END! I hope this was a fun, lighthearted fic where you laughed tons and loved tons and just overall enjoyed!  
> To @/chenscloud: you stupid fuck angel go poke-poke evangelion ruiner ya LIKE JAZZ?? I love you. I love you. I love you bunches. Thank you for being the oiks to my iwa and the shinji to my kaworu. I hope you loved this with everything your balloon-laugh identity can muster.  
> This is a story I genuinely love from the bottom of my heart and I cannot thank you guys enough for the support I've gotten from it! See you guys soon for Nekoma and Seijoh week ;) you can scream at me on Twitter: @/annabelolee__


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